


Tanathe Melava Re Gaelathe?

by KitLlwynog



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arlathan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mostly Solas POV, Psychological Trauma, Reincarnation, Slavery, Soul Bond, Time Skips, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitLlwynog/pseuds/KitLlwynog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third Time is Perfect?</p><p>We begin with Solas as the general of Mythal's armies in ancient Arlathan. Bound to a duty, and a marriage that has begun to chafe, Mythal's wolf finds a new lease on life when he is called to train his Lady's new bodyguard, a newly manifested spirit of Will named Rosalinsil. </p><p>Why did Fen'harel rebel against his slavery? Perhaps corruption was not the only reason that he threw off his chains. </p><p>Later, we will travel into the future to find two destined souls meeting again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enathe'or'asahngar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is a manifested spirit of Pride, serving as the general of Mythal's armies in ancient Arlathan. He is technically a slave, though well-placed and cared for, but between his duties and the arranged marriage he detests, his bonds have begun to feel restrictive.
> 
> When Mythal adopts a new Elvhen, a former spirit of Will cast off by Sylaise, she instructs her general to train the young woman as her new lupine bodyguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Savhalla, 'ma'fen: Saluatations, my wolf. (informal greeting)  
> Ha'el'asha: respected woman (I'm using it as an equivalent to 'my Lady"  
> Lah'hasath'tirdan: Voice String Bowing (fancy elvhen violin!)  
> Ir abelas, hahren: I'm sorry, elder  
> Na banal: lethallan: It is nothing, my kin  
> Ma serannas: My thanks  
> Anise: fiery girl  
> On dhea'lam, 'ma'len: Good evening, husband  
> Nuvenan ma son: I hope you are well. (formal greeting)  
> Blar'Avise: Hearth Fire Flower (A festival I just invented!)  
> 'ma'lan: my wife  
> Sul sura: Visit again. (informal farewell)

Time has little meaning beyond the Veil. Every moment is and was, all at once. His memories play before his eyes as if he lived them, though he could not alter the outcome that he knew awaited. Where did it start? Arlathan, of course, when the crystal spires still gleamed, and all seemed beautiful to his sight. He had not yet discovered the darkness within, though his heart was already disquieted. Fate had come calling, and found him unprepared. The memory materialized with the intensity of the emotions surrounding it.

"Savhalla, 'ma'fen. How does the bright morning find you?" said his mistress with a smile. Her voice was smooth as honey, but he knew from experience that there was steel within. She sat on the throne in her audience chamber with practiced ease, her sharp golden eyes missing nothing.

"Well enough, Ha'el'asha," he said mildly. Mythal was a good master to have, compared to the alternatives, but he did not believe for a moment that she actually cared for his personal well-being past how it related to his usefulness. 

"I have a surprise for you 'ma'fen. A new task, if you will." He raised his eyebrows, wondering what more responsibility he could possibly undertake. He had begun as her personal guard, but now he was the general of her armies. Not only that, he had wed the daughter of one of her political rivals so that she could gain advantage in the Council. It was only his love and respect for his lady that had convinced him to physically manifest to begin with, but after so many years, the binding he had accepted as a form of protection had begun to rankle. All he could do was prevent Mythal from seeing his discontent, and enjoy the time he spent in dreams.

"Come on out, da'len," Mythal said to an unseen person behind her. Two wide blue eyes peered out from behind the throne, and then out stepped a lithe Elvhen woman. Her hair was so fair as to nearly be white, and her skin was barely a shade darker. A vallaslin of Mythal was etched brand new on her skin in jade green, not quite as complex as his, but close. He noticed that she was stocky for one of the People, built for agile strength rather than the little waifs that seemed to be in fashion these days. "Since you are occupied with commanding my forces, I find myself in need of a guardian. This is Rosalinsil, a cast-off of Sylaise."

"Rosalinsil?" It meant enduring inner thought, or something similar. An unusual name for one of Sylaise's people. The Hearthkeeper tended to choose her female attendants for looks and they had names indicating gentle, nurturing natures.

"I once was Will," said the young Elvhen. "The Heart of Flame thought to have a capable bodyguard that appeared to be nothing but decoration. But she became frustrated with me quickly."

"Apparently, she was not expecting a spirit of Will to be quite so willful," Mythal added with a musical laugh. "But I value initiative over strict obedience. I want you to train her as my new guardian. I find I miss having a wolf at my side, and you are too busy to follow at my heels."

Solas sighed, partly relieved to relinquish the duty of guardianship, and partly annoyed to have to train one so new to physical form. And he did not doubt that a spirit of Will would be a difficult student. "Very well. In what does she require training?"

"That, you will have to discover on your own. I do not trust Sylaise's claims as to her capabilities, and I have not the time to evaluate it for myself. I entrust her to your care, 'ma'fen. Let me know when she is prepared to assume some of her new duties," Mythal stood and walked out of the room, not even bothering to dismiss them.

He turned to Rosalinsil, frowning. Where to begin? He supposed it would be prudent to start with introductions. They would be working closely together for some time, if he was not much mistaken, and though he feared it would be frustrating for him, it would be better to start off politely. "Welcome to the service of Mythal, Rosalinsil. I am called Solas, and as Mythal mentioned, I command her armies at present, but I was once her personal guard." He extended his arm to her and they gripped elbows for a moment, the customary greeting of the time. Solas pulled back first, almost startled. For a moment he thought he felt... but no, it must have been his imagination.

Rosalinsil smiled at him, a bright and open flash of white teeth. It was shockingly sincere for one who had spent time among the Evanuris. "Solas means 'to stand tall.' Is that a reference to your personality or just your admirable height?"

"I was once a spirit of Pride," he said in answer, turning away from her to collect his thoughts. Normally he was pleased, but unsurprised. to hear others comment on his height. It was unusual, yet many found it attractive, and he was nothing if not aware of his attractiveness. So why had her notice made him feel... self-conscious? "Let us walk, lethallan," he said to her, shaking his head at the bizarre turning of his thoughts. "Tell me, what are your skills?"

She followed him, her footfalls seeming loud to his ears. They were the step of someone who saw no need to hide where, or who, they were. "Aren't you supposed to tell me that?" she said, her tone playful.

He grinned despite himself. "That is true. But if I do not know where you believe your competency lies, I will not know where to begin evaluating you."

"I generally wield dual short blades, but I can also shoot a bow with some accuracy. My combat magic is mostly defensive or supportive in nature and my style revolves around agility. I also have some political knowledge. And I can play the Lah'hasath'tirdan," she replied, her voice matter-of-fact.

"Why music?" he wondered aloud. The thing she had named was a stringed instrument played with a bow. It was deemed a difficult but beautiful skill, yet not one at all favored by Sylaise.

"That is for my own pleasure. Before I took a body, I often watched a child struggle to master the Lah'hasath'tirdan. His determination impressed me. That is likely how I became as I am."

"Ah," Solas replied, intrigued. "A bit of nostalgia, I suppose. Perhaps you shall play for me one day. Our lady favors more martial music, but I have always liked the emotional nature of the strings. But for now, I suppose we should start with combat. Have you arms and armor?"

Rosalinsil frowned unhappily. "Sylaise did not permit me to bring the things I used in her service. I have little of my own but the clothes I am currently wearing."

"Typical," Solas remarked testily, though he regretted it immediately. He should not share his bitterness with a young one so new to Mythal's service. It reflected poorly on him, and moreover, he should not be so quick to trust her. Yet, he knew, somehow, that she would not reveal him to their mistress no matter what blasphemies he uttered. From around his neck he pulled his token, a badge of office, of sorts. It was a carved stone pendant with the face of a wolf, with six eyes of glowing blue crystal. "Take this and go to Mythal's smith. You will find him in the northwest of the lowest level. Tell him to craft you light armor befitting the Guardian of Mythal, and a pair of blades that suit you. Also ceremonial armor, a sword, shield, bow, and staff. I will send the tailor to your quarters." He stopped suddenly. "You do have quarters, don't you?"

She blushed, her eyes downcast. "Mythal only plucked me from Sylaise's host this morning. I have nothing but my name, in truth."

"I suppose you have not eaten either?" he said, frustration warring with a sudden protective instinct he couldn't quite place.

"No, hahren," she replied quietly, and he swore he saw her lip tremble. She had learned to guard her emotions somewhat, a necessity among the Arlathan elites, but not well. He could feel her shame, her fatigue, and confusion leaking through. But she did not want to seem weak in his eyes. She was determined to be worthy of her new place.

He tilted her chin up with a finger. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, lethallan," he said, his heart pained by the poor treatment to an innocent young spirit. "I am merely frustrated that my Lady has not taken better care of you, when you have clearly had a difficult beginning among the People, through no fault of your own."

"Ir abelas, hahren. I feel like a little lost child. That hardly seems to suit one who is meant to guard Mythal from danger," she said weakly, tears welling in her eyes. "I am unused to feeling so unsure of my place."

"Na banal, lethallan. I still find this world to be a difficult place, and I took a body long ago," he said softly. "Come. We will get you a meal and a place to sleep first of all, and I shall aid you in obtaining the equipment you require." Then he smiled wryly. "And please, call me by my name. Hahren makes me feel aged."

She blushed. "Ir abelas. Ma serannas, Solas."

***********

Several hours later, Rosalinsil was successfully installed in the rooms across from his, and in possession of clothes and basic arms suiting her new station, though many of the other weapons she would require would take a bit more time. Solas sagged into the chair before his desk. There were many other things requiring his attention, reports of troop movements, supply routes and manifests. And a flashing message crystal indicated that his wife wanted to speak to him. Because, of course she did.

Why, oh why had he allowed Mythal to persuade him that this was a good idea? The woman, even from half a world away in his private dwelling, was a thorn in his side. Their personalities seemed designed to clash. He touched the crystal and tried to arrange his features in something other than a scowl. 

"On dhea'lam, 'ma'len," came the voice of Anise, daughter of the only person Solas liked less, Anaris. Her tones were syrupy sweet, meaning she had been up to no good.

"Nuvenan ma son, Anise," he replied blandly. "You seem in good spirits."

"Of course. I attended the most delightful party at Andruil's estate yesterday eve, and the Lady wondered that she had not seen you in many months. I told her that Mythal keeps you quite busy. Still, I wondered if you might return home soon."

"My Lady will likely not give me leave until I have finished training her new guardian. But as long as the Children of the Stone remain in their underground fastness, I should be free after that." Not that he believed for a moment that she wanted to see him. Yet he was surprised that she seemed disappointed. 

"Mythal asks much of you. Perhaps I should come to Arlathan for a time to keep you company," she suggested sweetly.

He raised his eyebrows, taken somewhat aback. Maybe he had rushed to judgement in her case. "If you wish. I thought you detested it here."

"Oh, well, it is not such a hardship with you to accompany me." There was a part of him that hoped, that longed for the kind of partnership this suggested. Yet he could not quite bring himself to trust it. "I will come to celebrate Blar'Avise. The festival is rumored to be splendid," she said brightly.

"It is, at that," he agreed. "I will expect you in a month or so, 'ma'lan," he added, summoning a smile from the reservoir of civility he still maintained.

"Good. Sal sura," she said, and then the message crystal abruptly went dark. He sighed, wishing that he could feel the things for her that a husband was supposed to feel for a wife. Mythal had chided him for naïveté when he had protested the thought of wedding someone he could barely stand. 

"You are too sentimental, 'ma'fen," she had said with a chuckle. "Besides, it's not like it's forever. I doubt Anaris will mind his manners for very long, and that is a part of the marriage contract. Is that really so much to ask?"

It had seemed reasonable at the time. But now all he could feel was cold regret.


	2. Tel'son Emaronathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas begins evaluating the skills of his new charge, and discovers that her time under Sylaise's care was not exactly kind. Her combat skills are enough to put him on his back but the closeness gives him feeling he had not expected.
> 
> A few weeks later, he discovers her nightmare in the Fade, and interrupts it, making a horrifying discovery. Concerned he goes to check on her and gives her what comfort he can.
> 
> Warning: Implied rape and abuse related trauma in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tel'son emaronathe: Unfavorable comparison  
> On dhea: Good morning  
> Atisha: Peace  
> Tel'abelas: Means not sorry, but in this context mean don't be sorry.  
> Falon: friend  
> Fenor: an endearment, literally meaning wolflike but with a connotation similar to precious or beloved.

The next morning, Solas could feel a sense of nervous anticipation nearby the moment he opened his eyes. He chuckled, knowing that Rosalinsil was probably standing outside. He could almost imagine her shifting from foot to foot as she waited for him. Quickly he donned his own armor, and grabbed a practice blade and staff.

As he expected, he nearly ran into her as he exited the door. "On dhea, Rosalinsil. You do not have to linger outside my door until I emerge, just so you are aware."

"Oh, savhalla, Solas. Ir abelas. Only, I did not know where else to go. I learned in Sylaise's palace that it was dangerous to wander," she said, the spike of pain and fear accompanying the statement making him irrationally angry. What kind of beasts were Sylaise's folk, that a young Elvhen should be so frightened to walk among them alone?

He took a deep breath, not wishing to traumatize her further. "No, lethallan. It is they who should apologize, for behaving so cruelly. And I, for not thinking to show you the palace."

"Its all right. You were busy. I know you have many duties, and my training has only added to your burdens." Her voice was not sad or angry. It was just a fact of her life that her welfare was not very important in the grand scheme of things.

"Nonsense," he said, guiding her down the hall with a firm grip on her shoulder. "I have duties, it is true. But I can hardly train you to guard Mythal if you are afraid to roam about the palace. And I wish you to feel safe here, lethallan. This will be your home for the foreseeable future, and, as far as I am aware, no one here would dare to harm you while you wear our Lady's mark. So let us go to the Dining Hall, where we may break our fast."

They sat at a round table near the window. Most of the Elvhen that passed seemed shocked to see Solas there. "I usually have food sent to my rooms. Which, of course, you may also do. There is cord to pull near the bed, and servants will come inquire of your needs."

"Oh! I didn't realize it was permitted for me to summon the servants. I was barely above a servant myself, before." She dug into her meal with gusto and Solas found himself smiling indulgently. He remembered when he first came into his body. Once he had discovered how delicious food could be, he went several months sampling everything that came within reach. Mythal had watched with amusement and made remarks about teenage boys.

"How long has it been since you manifested, Rosalinsil?" he asked, still smiling.

She swallowed, remembering harshly delivered lessons in table manners. "Two years, I think. Though the first part was very confusing."

"Yes. The physical world can be overwhelming, especially at first. But you are doing well. It was nearly five years before Mythal would let me out in public. Though I suspect her tutelage was more gentle than what you experienced." Rosalinsil shuddered, her eyes clouded by painful memories. Solas reached across the table and grasped her hand. "Atisha, lethallan. Forgive me for bringing it up. Clearly, it pains you." Once again, her touch seemed to send a jolt through his skin and he recognized it now. His own magic leaping in response to the contact.

This time, she clearly felt it too. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but he was the one to release her. "What was that, Solas?"

"I... I do not know," he admitted, flexing his fingers. "Other than that it was magic." He shook his head. "I believe it is something to be researched later. We should be getting to the training yard. Mythal will become upset if I have nothing to tell her of your progress."

************

"All right, lethallan. Are you prepared?" Solas asked, taking a guard stance with a practice blade. Rosalinsil's blades had been dulled by a spell, but he was not so concerned that she could really harm him.

"I think so," she said, twirling her new daggers experimentally. "Let's go." She darted at him and he dodged out of her way, swinging his weapon at her stomach. She bent backwards under his blade in a marvelous display of of flexibility, kicking his arm at the elbow as she flipped back to her feet.

"Fenedhis!" he said fiercely as he nearly dropped the sword, his arm tingling painfully. He rolled away. As naive as she was about many things, her combat training was excellent. The main advantage he had was reach. He lunged at her and she slid aside, leaping behind him, but when he whirled to face her she actually slid between his legs, and if she'd been wielding honed blades, she could have hamstrung him or worse as she passed. Then she was on her feet again, her back to his, and her leg hooked over his ankle.

Luckily, he realized in time to shift his weight and pivot away. She flashed him a grin, rolling to the other side of the yard and facing him in a ready crouch. Now she waited for him to make a move, wanting him to offer an opening. He charged at her, sword lowered at her knees, but as she reacted, he jabbed his elbow upward, thinking to catch her in the chin. But she had anticipated him, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to put him on his back. The air rushed out of his lungs in a very inelegant grunt. She laughed and came to help him up. He swept his arm across her ankles and she fell heavily onto his chest.

"Oof," she said with a heavy breath. "That'll teach me to offer mercy to a fallen foe, I suppose," she said, laughing and pushing herself up on to her arms.

"A noble thought, lethallan. But considering how foolish you have made me look, I did not feel above dirty tricks." Rosalinsil flashed him a brilliant smile, her cheeks rosy with exertion. Their eyes met, icy blue into stormy gray and time seemed to slow. Solas could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears and his body, even through the armor, was acutely aware of where every curve of her pressed into him. There was a spark of heat low in his belly. He reached up, unthinking, to brush a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear. Her pupils dilated in response and she started, rocking back onto her heels, and the moment passed.

He shook his head to clear the fog from his brain. What was he doing? He pushed himself up heavily. "It seems that your combat skills need little improvement. I will inquire about suitable sparring partners for you, to keep your muscles honed, but I can offer you little in the way of instruction." She looked at him a bit warily, and then nodded. Despite his confused emotions, he did not want her to be afraid and he smiled to dispel some of the tension. "Perhaps I ought to spar with you myself occasionally, if I am so easily defeated. Such is the peril of occupying my desk too often."

Then Rosalinsil did smile. "Mythal's wolf would lose some of his power to intimidate if it was known that he could be brought low by a nobody like me. I will be happy to face you again."

"Lethhallan, you are far from nobody. The personal guardian of our Lady is an honored position, especially for one so new to their body. However, consider yourself challenged. Next time, I will be ready," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a playful shove out of the training yard. "But that is for later. Now, I must gauge you skill in magic."

*******************

The next few days passed in this way. Solas found her magic to be barely adequate, and that he would tutor her in himself, as Mythal would expect. She also knew very little about the other Evanuris, or about Elvhen society in general, and he gave her heaps of books, with instructions to report her findings and opinions on each one as it was finished. Rosalinsil proved to be a quick learner, both studious and curious. He allowed her to accompany him on most of his business throughout the city and found her to be a pleasant companion. She was intelligent and quick witted, and not afraid to state her opinions even when they differed from his. Yet she was never cruel, and one of the most genuine people he had ever encountered. He found it refreshing, but he knew it made her vulnerable. Part of him felt that he should harden her to the harsh reality of the world, but he wanted to shield her, to keep her innocent spirit safe from those who would sully it.

There was a small part of his mind that begin to ring alarm bells when he found himself wishing that Anise could be more like Rosalinsil, which turned into wishing that Rosalinsil was his wife instead. But he dismissed it as idle fancy and no more. What man, stuck with a mate that did not suit him, would not wish for better? And Rosalinsil was lovely. It was only natural for him to wonder, but it meant nothing.

It was a few more weeks before he truly realized the threat that she posed.

*******************

He walked the Fade in his dreams, almost able to believe that he had never left. His body felt light and free, and his thoughts shaped the world with ease. Solas could even shape the physical realm through his dreams, which was rare even among the other Fade-born, though he rarely saw a need for such a thing. This night, he walked along the seashore in the moonlight in the form of a wolf, feeling the sand beneath his feet, listening to the waves. It brought him some measure of peace when the outside world offered him little. Anise would be in the city soon. She planned to stay for a week, and already she was driving him up the wall with her list of plans and demands. Part of him was dearly praying there would be some sort of catastrophe far away so that Mythal would be forced to send in him into the field. His wife could hardly complain about that, could she? Though no doubt she still would.

A cry echoed through the Fade, filled with terror and pain. It pierced his heart as surely as a dagger would. He ran toward the sound and passed into the dream of another. It was dark in this dream, the air filled with fear and silent screams as well as cruel laughter. A group of Elvhen surrounded someone on the ground.

"Look at the lost little mouse. Isn't she precious? One of Sylaise's new pets," said a voice. The speaker's face was twisted past recognition, molded by the fear and disgust of the dreamer. And Solas had a terrible suspicion whose dream he had found.

"Let's see what games she likes to play," said another voice, predatory and feral. "Sylaise always makes her toys so pretty but this one looks like she could stand up to more punishment then usual." There was the smacking sound of a hand hitting flesh. "You see, I think she even likes it."

Solas had no illusions as to what was going to happen next. He stepped into the light, shouting, his rage barely held in check by the knowledge that this was just a reflection of a memory rather than the actual event. "Begone, spirits. Trouble this one no further!" The forms of the Elvhen and the dark room dissolved, leaving only Rosalinsil, her naked form curled in on itself and shivering in terror. He knelt beside her, but did not touch, afraid to startle her. "Shhhh, lethallan. They are gone. Just a dream."

She stilled, looking up at him slowly, her eyes wide. "Solas? How?" Then she disappeared and he knew she had awakened, but he was concerned for her, stricken by what he had just witnessed, and he forced himself to waken. 

He blinked into the darkness, his eyes adjusting quickly to the moonlight shining in his window. Rosalinsil. He should just make sure that she was all right. Pulling on a pair of soft breeches, he quietly left his room and padded across the hall. The door was closed, and he pressed his ear to it. He could hear the unmistakeable sound of desperate sobbing. Pushing the door open a crack, he stuck his head inside. Rosalinsil was highlighted in the moonlight, sitting up in her bed, hugging her knees as sobs wracked her frame. "Lethallan. Are you well?" he called quietly.

She shook her head and then covered her face with her hands. "Ir abelas, Solas. I am keeping you from your rest. I will try to be quieter," she said tremulously, her breath coming in erratic gasps.

It was almost physically painful for him to see her that way, her bright spirit dimmed by despair and fear. He entered the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Tel'abelas, falon. I woke because I was worried for you and I wished to be sure that you were all right. There is nothing to apologize for. What happened to you was terrible."

"You were there, truly?" Her voice came as whisper from between her fingers. "I did not want you to see that," she said, raggedly, her voice hollow. 'It is pitiful. Disgusting." He had never heard such venom in her voice, and it was all aimed at herself. He felt a torrent of emotions, anger at those that had hurt her, and anger for whomever had made her ashamed. And sorrow that she held so much torment within. He wanted to make it disappear for her and his arms went around her of their own volition, his magic flaring in response, though it seemed of little importance, considering.. She stilled, like a frightened hare about to bolt.

"No, shhhh," he said gently. "You are not to blame. Never think that. It reflects poorly only on those that committed such cruel acts, and any who allowed it to happen. It should not happen to anyone, but to inflict such pain on such a bright young spirit as you is beyond reproach. I only wish that I had been there in truth, so that it could have been prevented." They sat there, not moving for several minutes and he could feel her muscles slowly relaxing until she laid her head against his chest.

"I felt so worthless, afterward. And ashamed," she said finally, a choking sob cutting her off. He could feel the tears falling against his skin and he simply sat holding her, stroking her hair. Eventually, she got her breath back enough to continue. "Sylaise punished me for wandering the palace and allowing myself to be sullied, and I.. I tried to throw myself from the balcony. That is when she dismissed me from her service. If Mythal had not come... I..." She did not have to speak further for he could sense the shape of things in her emotions. She would likely not have survived. His rage at Sylaise smoldered in his chest like a red-hot coal in his throat.

"You are worth more than a hundred of Sylaise and her foolish followers," he said hotly, his arms squeezing around her involuntarily. 

That provoked a shaky laugh from Rosalinsil. "I had no idea you disliked the Heart of Flame so venomously," she ventured.

"Before now, I hardly had an opinion. But anyone who would allow such barbaric acts to occur under their eyes. And to blame you..." His fingers flexed against her shoulders in response to his anger. He expelled a sharp breath through his nose. "Forgive my outburst. It bothers me that such a thing was allowed. And I would tell Mythal, so that she might bestow a fitting punishment, but it is not my secret to give. Nor would I expose you to Sylaise's wrath."

"No, please don't tell her," Rosalinsil begged, her sobs coming back in full force. "It is bad enough that you know of my shame."

"You have my word, falon," he said. "But I swear to you that it is nothing you should feel shamed for. There is no blame laid at your feet." Again he held her as the tears fell, and eventually she sighed against his chest, a sound heavy with exhaustion. "Do you think you will be able to sleep now? You must be tired."

"I am so tired. But every time I close my eyes... the dreams...." she said wearily, a yawn splitting her face wide.

He couldn't help his yawn in response. "You have not been sleeping well for some time," he guessed. "I can teach you to keep the dreams away. But I am afraid that it will take time. If you can rest now, you should try." He released her from his embrace and she laid back down, but he could feel her fear returning. The fact that this had happened to her, to anyone, but especially to her, and he could do nothing about it... It made him want to hit something. Possibly also make it explode. But there was nothing more he could do this night and he stood.

"Solas..." came her voice, small and terrified. "I..."

"If you need my aid, falon, you need only to ask."

She shifted in her bed, and he could feel her discomfort along with her fear. "No. Never mind. You should go back to sleep," she said, but she shivered as if with cold.

He frowned, shifting from foot to foot in indecision. She needed comfort. It was foolish of him. Yet the thought of leaving her like this made him feel ill. "Would you..." he swallowed. "If you would like, I will stay. I can keep the dreams away for tonight."

Rosalinsil turned to him, her eyes wide and indecisive. "I.... You don't have to...." She sighed. "Please. It has been such a long time since I have slept well."

He nodded mutely and lay down next to her on the bed. "I will have to touch you, to be sure that your dreams will be included in my wards. I do not want to make you uncomfortable." Solas had a strange feeling in his chest, as if he stood on the edge of a precipice. Terror and excitement and a swirling sort of vertigo. _No_ he told himself. _She needs comfort and friendship only. To even think of more does her a disservice, no matter how beautiful she is. She is hurt and afraid._

"I trust you," he heard her voice say, somehow, through the swirling maelstrom of thoughts in his mind.

"Take my hand, then, falon. Dreams will not trouble you tonight." They turned to face each other, and he felt one small hand find his in the dark. He squeezed it, and their fingers intertwined. It made his heart turn over in his chest and he had the urge to smack himself. Instead he frowned, and hummed a thread of magic into being. It glowed with pale green light and spread over them like a cloak, a spell of rest and pleasant dreams and protection. When the spell was cast, the light faded, but Solas could still feel the magic tingling against his skin. 

Rosalinsil relaxed beside him as she felt the fear ebb under the influence of the spell. "Ma serannas, Solas."

"Sleep well," he said quietly. "I will be here." He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed. In the moonlight she was almost impossibly lovely and he felt his heart swell. _Get ahold of yourself. This is ridiculous._ his inner voice chided. But he couldn't help that he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, just once, and as he felt sleep finally claim him a word formed on his lips. "Fenor." How had she become so precious to him?


	3. Lath'in Tel'dialem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalinsil discovers that Solas might be attractive, they work on magical wards and then he and his wife hate each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, warning, sort of dubious-consent anger sex here.
> 
> Lath'in Tel'dialem- Heart Uncovered  
> An'daran Atish'an, ma'lan: This is a safe place for you, my wife. (Very formal greeting.)

Rosalinsil woke first, the sky still barely light. The sensation of a warm, solid mass against her back confused her, but what was truly alarming was the feeling of something wrapped around her waist, trapping her. She scooted away, spinning around and hugging herself. Solas was there, asleep. She remembered now, he had come to her, comforted her, kept the dreams away. He must have draped his arm over her in his sleep, and miraculously, he hadn't woken when she had panicked. 

A long sighing breath escaped her lips as the tension drained from her body. If she trusted anyone, it was Solas. He had called her falon, and she had seen the true anger and concern on his face when she had told him what had happened. His face was peaceful in sleep, and she could admire the elegant planes of his form. The dark line of his brows, his straight narrow nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones that seemed to flow right into his gracefully pointed ear. His dark braided hair splayed behind him like a lady's train, the unruly strands escaping from their bonds in a halo around his head. 

She had very little reference, still, as to what kind of body would be considered beautiful, yet she would have certainly said it of Solas. The breadth of his shoulders tapered toward his lean hips, hidden under the blanket, and she could tell, even if she had not already known, that he was strong, his muscles defined, but not unnaturally so. Of course, she had never seen him without his shirt before, a fact which made her blush, belatedly, but she supposed that she was lucky he hadn't been completely naked, considering the hour at which her dream had awakened him. Her mind was awash with unfamiliar emotions that confused her, a feeling of warmth suffusing her body that made her feel light, and the hint of smoldering heat in her abdomen. Want. She wanted to touch him, to be touched by him, a fact which startled her. And, naive as she was, Rosalinsil knew that he was married, and she also knew what that meant. He was not for her. 

Still, he had come here of his own will, hadn't he? He had been the one to touch first. Perhaps, she could lay back down next to him, for a moment, and pretend. She moved slowly, uncurling herself, settling back against the pillow, nervously scooting toward him until she could feel the heat of his skin. Her back touched his chest, and then, though still asleep, she felt him close the remaining distance between them, his arm going around her waist and pulling her so that she fit right into the curve of his body, his nose nestled on her neck just below her ear. Then he sighed out a deep contented breath. The spell was still active, Rosalinsil realized. As soon as their skin touched, she could feel the peace of his magic settling over her, and she, though every nerve was alive with the knowledge of his skin against hers, let sleep claim her, her body too exhausted by weeks of insomnia to fight.

Solas came to wakefulness slowly, a few hours later, squinting against the now bright sunlight. He knew immediately where he was and what had happened, and though he cursed himself silently, he could not quite make himself move. The warmth of her body against him, the smell of her skin and hair, the way their auras mingled and his magic arced in response, it was so wonderful that he closed his eyes in bliss. He wanted so badly to stay, to press his lips to her neck, and it was unbelievably foolish. Not to mention terribly ungentlemanly, considering what she had been through. He let out a disgruntled sigh and disentangled himself gently. Going to the door, he poked his head out to make sure no one was about and then he slipped over to his own room feeling like a naughty child.

He leaned with his back against the door, his heart not the only thing feeling frustration at the situation. The erection laying against his thigh was not just the normal morning arousal. A cold shower was what he needed, but even there, icy water falling over his head and shoulders, his body burned with heat at the memory of her and he had to take himself in hand, imagining all the things he wished he could do, her name a silent prayer on his lips the moment of his release.

***************

They did not speak of it of course, in public or private, at least not directly. But Solas now made magic training highest on his list of priorities for Rosalinail, starting with mental wards.

"You have had some rudimentary training in preventing your emotions from leaking out, but to walk among the Evanuris in safety, your control must be iron-clad," he said seriously. "Also, it is the first step to protecting yourself from unpleasant things in the Fade, such as demons and bad dreams."

She nodded in response, her expression determined. "What do I do?"

He smiled, an expression which now occasionally made her heart flip-flop in her chest alarmingly. "Begin by grounding yourself, as we have practiced. Once you feel calm and centered, you should extend your magical senses so you can see your aura." Rosalinsil closed her eyes, and, with a familiar sensation of seeing both within and beyond herself, the pulsing colors of her aura appeared. It seemed brighter than she remembered, blue, yellow, and green mostly, but now there were highlights of pink, purple and red. "You see how the energy pulses, flaring past the confines of your body?" Solas continued. "The first thing you must do is pull it within you, gathering it to yourself as if it is something you long to possess, embracing it."

The only thing Rosalinsil wished to possess or embrace at the moment was standing in front of her, but that thought did her no favors, making her magic pulse brilliantly purple for a moment. "If a strong emotion troubles you, let is pass through you without lingering," came his cool voice. "Take a deep breath and remember your center before trying again." She frowned and followed his instruction, finally drawing her aura towards her with a feeling like pulling a drawstring closed. "Well done," Solas said when she had managed to hold all her emotions and power inside herself.

"What now? I assume you can still see the emotions, even though I've reigned them in?" she said, already having noticed, that as far as her magical senses were concerned, Solas was a faint shadow, an occasional whisper of color the only thing he revealed.

"You are correct. But do not think this step is unimportant. With your aura contained within you, your emotions will no longer dance upon the air for anyone to feel by chance. The next part is more difficult in practice, but easier conceptually. You must imagine yourself donning a cloak that covers all that you are, concealing and protecting. Some like the imagery of a cloak of fog, or reflective glass."

"And what imagery do you prefer?" she asked, suddenly unaccountably curious. She could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"I will demonstrate. Observe my aura, if you will." She closed her eyes again, and suddenly Solas flared brightly as a beacon, the blues of intelligence, wisdom, and logic, and greens of health and creativity dominated, but Rosalinsil could see hints of other colors as well, pulses of red courage, passion, and anger, dull orange pride, and the deep purples and pinks that indicated love and lust. She felt her ears redden at the knowledge, the question of whom those feelings were directed toward she could hardly bear to think about. 

"See how I gather the energy," he said, as the swirl of colors coalesced until it was a ball of bright light held within his heart. "And now, I hide it away." This happened in a flash, and the quick impression she got was of a suit of cold armor that covered him in ice. If she extended her senses toward him, she got the sense of walking into a blizzard.

"Ice armor. Interesting," she said with raised eyebrows. It certainly suited his coolly intelligent outward persona.

"Cloak imagery is simpler, but with practice you can use anything to shield your emotions from others."

So that was what they spent the next week working on, for the most part, though Solas often sent her to spar others in the training yard in the afternoons and encouraged her to spend her evenings reading all the books he had assigned her. But at night there was something unspoken between them. He often appeared to her in dreams, and there, he showed her how those energies could be manipulated. However, if one of her dreams escaped her control, he was there to dismiss it. And the few nights that her nightmares had truly got out of hand, she knew that he had come to her when a feeling of peace and security would suddenly settle on her like a blanket, though he was never again there in the morning. She often awoke to find a spot of lingering warmth next to her that filled her with inescapable longing.

*****************

The festival of Blar'Avise was upon them and Solas felt tightly wound as a lute string. He had deemed Rosalinsil ready to assume some of the duties of guarding Mythal, which was a relief because her presence was proving insanely distracting. Every time he caught a whiff of her scent on the air, something primal stirred within him, which made him frustrated and irritable. Then Anise arrived. 

She was beautiful, there was no arguing with that, her curtain of wavy hair, red as blood, made a startling contrast to skin the color of polished maple and green eyes that put emeralds to shame. But Solas had never been particularly affected by her physical attractiveness, because the poisonous hate within her was like an infected wound in his eyes. Yet, even he was surprised by how marvelously indifferent he felt when she pressed herself to him, making a show for onlookers, as she often did.

"An'daran atishan, ma'lan," he said simply, his voice cool, but not cruel. "How was your journey?" He offered her his elbow, and she took it, though her lips had a slight pout, and he knew she was expecting more of a reaction.

"So formal, Solas," she said, her voice petulant. "Your time in Arlathan has changed you," she said, running her fingers down his arm.

"Perhaps. Time does not leave anyone untouched. Maybe you are merely seeing me with new eyes, and are perceiving my truest self," he said blandly, doubting that Anise would ever know him more than superficially.

She looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing. And then they were subsumed by preparations for the festival, as well as the mountain of plans that Anise had made for them. An endless stream of parties, banquets, picnics, and of course, visits to every fashionable market and cafe in the city. It all began to blur together after the first few days. The one bright spot in the whole affair was that Anise thought his normal chamber was too small and ascetic for her tastes, so they stayed in some of the quarters that Mythal reserved for high ranking guests. Not that he couldn't have had better quarters, but he liked the quiet and privacy of the lower levels, and he was now extremely glad, for it meant that he did not have to encounter Rosalinsal while accompanied by his wife. 

As for Anise, she seemed determined to pierce through his indifference, apparently believing that no man could resist her feminine wiles. But the more she pressed herself on him, the more Solas had to fight against actual revulsion. However, he could almost feel the eyes of Mythal upon him as they walked in her procession. If Anise complained of him to her father, he would likely face punishment. The fourth night of her visit, he let her seduce him.

Or he tried to, but his body would not cooperate. Anise was furious. "What kind of man are you, that cannot even lie with his wife? Does Mythal make eunuchs out of her servants?"

He felt his whole body go cold with anger. "It is only because of my service to Mythal that I agreed to wed you in the first place. Did you ever think I might tire of being sent to stud like a prize stallion? I would rather have honest hatred than your false affection."

"Is that what you think this is? Hatred?" Anise said quietly, dangerously. "You have not even seen my hatred, husband. But under the terms of our marriage contract you are bound to me. I own you as surely as Mythal does. And I will have what is mine."

He was stunned by her words, almost despairing at the truth of them, as she knew he would. She pushed him down on the bed, sucking him until he was rock hard despite himself and then she rode him like he imagined one would break an unruly horse, not gently. He closed his eyes against it and his mind conjured the memory of holding Rosalinsil in his arms. It awoke something in him, not just the shadow of the desire he had felt at her touch, but also rage. Rage at Anise, and at Mythal for the bindings he had reluctantly taken. There was nothing he could do, he had ceded control of his life, his heart, even his body, and for what? 

His anger must have blazed in his expression and Anise laughed. "Do you hate me now, wolf of Mythal?" Fury driving him, he rolled over on her, pinning her to the bed by the wrists.

"Is that what you want, Anise? Hatred, anger?" he said fiercely, thrusting into her roughly, venting all his frustration and resentment. Her gaze was unreadable as he spent himself inside her.

"Hatred is better than indifference," she said coldly as he sat on the edge of bed, pulling his breeches back on. "However, since you no longer wish to pretend to play devoted husband, I have no reason to remain. I shall return to the estate."

"Fine," he said, relief mingling with the disgust and self-loathing that nearly overwhelmed him. He would not show her the tears that nearly came to his eyes, would not give her that sign of weakness. 

She sniffed haughtily at him. "You can go back to whatever it is you do here. Reading books, I presume. I suppose I won't tell my father, as long as my needs are taken care of."

"I will continue to provide for you, as I have sworn to do," he said, his voice now flat and weary. "Of that, you need not be concerned." Now dressed, he stalked out of the room and down to his private quarters, maintaining the coldest most forbidding mask he could muster until he closed the door behind him. Then he flung himself into his bed and wept until sleep claimed him.

**************

The next day was the final day of Blar'Avise, and the biggest. The Night of Masks. Solas was not at all into the spirit of the day, and he could not even hide his existential depression from Rosalinsil when he briefed her on what her duties would be during the festivities. "Mythal usually sits and observes the dances for a while, and then she leaves the people to their revels. All you must do is stand by her side and watch for threats. Make sure no one gets too close. And she may call on you if she wishes to speak to someone specific. I do not expect any trouble, but I will be attending as well, if something truly dangerous arises."

"Solas, is something wrong?" she asked him, her blue eyes shadowed with concern. "You seem upset."

His initial instinct was to dismiss her worry, to keep that very last bit of distance between them. Mythal's general could not be vulnerable, could not afford that weakness, and after what he had allowed Anise to see, he should have been all the more cautious. But something about the look on her face made his mask slip a bit. "The past week has been.... difficult," he admitted. "Anise and I have never gotten along, and now we have a had a spectacular fight. She has gone back to the estate, probably to plot my demise." He hadn't meant to say anything past the first sentence, but in a way, he felt better having shared it with Rosalinsil, though it was obviously a simplified version of the past evening's disturbing events.

"Anise is your wife?" Rosalinsil asked, her eyebrows raised. "I assumed..." she smiled wryly. "I am probably going to seem hopelessly naive again, but I understood that marriage was a bond of love. You speak of her like she is a prison sentence."

Solas sighed. "It sounds terribly cruel, does it not, to speak of one's mate thus?" He had an urge to lay his head down on the table, lingering pain and regret and the constant effort of hiding it making him unaccountably weary. "Marriage is supposed to be about love," he continued with a cynical chuckle, "but in my case, it was political. I am bound to Mythal the same as you are. When she made treaty with Anaris and Geldauron, I was wed to Anaris's daughter as part of the price."

"Oh," Rosalinsil replied after a moment, frowning in thought. "I am sorry, Solas. I had no idea." She took his hand and squeezed it, and the touch of compassion felt like a burn.

"We all serve the Lady as we are able, and I am more fortunate than some," he said, his eyes dim with regret. "But do not worry overmuch for my welfare, falon. You should try to enjoy the festival. There is plenty to interest one less old and cynical than I."

Rosalinsil laughed. "You are not so ancient as all that, my friend. Perhaps a festival is just the thing to brighten your spirits." 

He shook his head. "I sincerely doubt it. But I will likely see you tonight, in any case." That done, Solas decided to take a nap.

When he awoke a few hours later, he was feeling, not completely like himself, but better. He still did not want to attend the ball, but Mythal was expecting him, and she would certainly be annoyed if her general did not show himself, however briefly. At least he got to wear a mask. Unfortunately, as his costume was lupine in nature, it hardly amounted to a disguise, since his reputation preceded him. He could only hope that wolf would be a popular choice this year.

This night would stick in his memory for ages to come, barely dimmed by the regrets and second-guessing that would come later. This was an outdoor festival, celebrating the end of summer, everyone gathered at the roots of the giant ironwood trees that supported the city of Arlathan. An old custom, from when the first Elvhen had wandered the earth like nomads, living off whatever the land was willing to provide. Everyone was anonymous, the poorest slave mingled with the wealthiest noble, at least that was the ideas, though it failed somewhat in practice. Love-making was encouraged, if not practically mandated, said to ensure the fertility of the land for the next year, the one night when it was actually somewhat customary to cheat on your spouse. On Blar'Avise, there were no rules, (well, very few rules) and glorious and colorful chaos was the result. 

When he was younger, he might have been one of the ones that was now roaming through the city defacing monuments with lewd artwork or part of a band of drunken youths singing bawdy songs loudly and out of key. But now he sat on a balcony railing overlooking a group of musicians and dancers cavorting around a bonfire. They did not notice him, and once he'd ensured that he'd been seen by Mythal, he was more than content to leave it that way. Now that he'd imbibed most of the contents of a wineskin, his thoughts hummed through his mind in a pleasantly careless meander.


	4. Alas'niral I'ise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was actually supposed to be part of the last chapter but it ran a bit long and I was tired so anyway....
> 
> The rest of the festival. Rosalinsil dances with a masked stranger who turns out not to be as strange as she thought and she and Solas explore their feeling for each other... thoroughly. Mostly smut here heh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas'niral i'ise: Dancing with fire  
> Ane ir'ina'lan'ehn, arasha: You are so beautiful, my happiness

Rosalinsil was still not that comfortable walking the city alone, though her confidence was definitely bolstered by the fact that she was armed, and had been told several times that her skill with daggers was phenomenal. Mythal had retired an hour previously and had actually ordered her to go enjoy the festival. 

"If you spend all your time with Solas, you'll grow as boring as he is," the Lady had said with a chuckle. Rosalinsil wanted to protest. She had never found him boring. He was quiet, and reserved, yes, and certainly an intellectual at heart, but underneath that, he was also passionate, and possessed of a mischievous wit. 

Still, she knew enough not to do anything that might reveal to Mythal the confused jumble of feelings she had for the Lady's general, so she had simply bowed and taken her leave. If she kept to the main thoroughfares, everything was fairly civilized, and as she bore the insignia of Mythal on her dragon mask, mostly she was left alone. She tasted food, and wine, but it was music that really drew her. She found herself approaching a bonfire where young musicians danced and played and sang. She hovered at the edge of the group for several minutes before she felt his eyes upon her.

A tall man in dressed in gold and brown and gray, most of his features obscured by a wolf mask, extended his hand in a wordless invitation to join the dancing. Perhaps the two glasses of wine she had drank lessened her fear, or perhaps it was instinct, but she felt no hesitation at accepting, and she placed her hand in his without speaking. Then they were whirling around the fire, their shadows leaping, and a wild laugh escaped her as the spinning made her heart flutter. Her mysterious partner smiled back at her then, a flash of white teeth glittering in the firelight. She couldn't help but notice his mouth, since it was practically all of him that she could see, and a thought struck her that his lips looked very soft. _What an odd thought to have._ her mind remarked wonderingly.

When they were both out of breath and clutching their sides, she thought he would release her. But he said, "Walk with me?" and she found herself glad that he had asked. They strolled arm in arm down little used paths lit only by the moon, and she did not feel afraid at all, and finally they stopped in a small, secluded garden. There was a charming little bridge over a stream, everything shaded by trees with fragrant blossoms.

"This place is lovely," she said softly. "I never knew the city had anything like this."

"Not as lovely as you are, fenor," he said in a whisper. Part of her thought that his voice sounded sort of familiar, though oddly out of place, but another part of her, which was louder, was startled by how close they had become, how she could feel the heat of his skin near to hers, and smell autumn leaves, leather, and old books. And he had called her 'fenor'- precious, beloved.

He reached out to embrace her and she stepped into his arms rather than away. Solas was pleased, but surprised that she had not fled, knowing her history. She had shown no sign that she knew it was him, and for the moment, he was content to keep it that way because it meant that awkward questions and explanations could be left for later. He wrapped his arms around her, delighting in the press of her body against his, the hitch in her breath when he brushed his fingers over the back of her neck. She looked up into his eyes, surprised but trusting somehow, and he pressed his lips to hers, gently.

She tensed, her heart fluttering wildly, and he pulled away. "Ir abelas," he whispered hoarsely, cursing himself for letting his desire take ahold of him, and he released her from his arms, taking a step back. However much he might want and need her, it was no excuse to frighten her.

But then she reached for him, grasping his hand, pulling him back. "Don't go," she said, her voice a hesitant entreaty, and he was lost.

One of his hands was tangled in her hair, the other around her waist, and though he tried his best to go slowly, she responded so eagerly he could barely contain himself, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hands now cupping her cheeks. She reached up to remove the mask and he stopped, sucking in a gasping breath.

"You know, it is considered rude to unmask your partner before daybreak," he chided, but he knew the battle was already lost. Her eyes widened in recognition before she had even pulled the mask halfway off, and it dropped into the grass.

"Solas!" she said, her voice a startled gasp. She removed her mask and threw it aside.

"I knew it was you, Rosalinsil," he said with a wry chuckle. "Though I was surprised that you did not recognize me. I might be offended by such an oversight on your part."

"I didn't think... I mean you... Why didn't you say anything?" she finally said, her voice frustrated and confused.

"I am sorry," he said with a sigh. "I confess, I was not sure you would accept my offer of a dance so readily if you knew, and then..." he shrugged. "I suppose I behaved rather impulsively."

"But why would you think that?" she frowned unhappily at him. "Are you just playing a game with me?"

That stung, a little, but he could hardly blame her, after her experiences. "No, fenor, I swear it. I..." he looked away, not sure how much, or even if, he should reveal the depth, the unexplained intensity of his feelings. "I care for you, Rosalinsil. More than I can say. I was afraid you might think it... inappropriate of me. But I thought I would allow myself the pleasure of a dance with you, and no one would be the wiser."

She laughed suddenly, and threw her arms around him, "It is a bit inappropriate, at that." Her eyes looked directly into his, searching his face for something. "I guess I had not imagined that you might think of me that way. But I wanted you to. I didn't even know that it was possible to have such thoughts and feelings regarding someone else until I woke and saw that you had held me in your arms through the whole night, protecting me from my nightmares."

He blushed right to the roots of his hair. "I was hoping that you had not noticed that." A long sigh escaped his lips, and he was not sure whether it was relief or resignation to his fate. He brushed her cheek tenderly with his thumb. "I want to be with you, but I do not want to hurt you. You have already been through enough."

"Solas, you have done so much to heal the hurts that have already been done. Being with you is my fondest wish, even if it is only for tonight. I want to know what it can be like, if it is... mutual," she said, her voice breathless at the heat in his gaze. She wondered how long he had felt it and kept it so well hidden. Then, she remembered the moment in the training yard, when he had brushed away the lock of her hair, and the look on his face, quickly hidden away. If only she had seen...

*****************

He carried her back to his quarters, she was surprised that it was not that far, but when she advised him that she could walk if he was getting tired, he smiled tenderly at her. "Fenor, you are the lightest burden that I have ever carried. Besides, I confess that a part of me is frightened that if I let you go, you will disappear into smoke." His lips rarely left her skin, and she wondered that he managed not to crash into anything.

No one was about in their wing of Mythal's palace, either long abed, or still out reveling. Solas shut the door behind him with a sigh of relief. He set her down on the edge of the bed, and helped her remove her boots. She was nervous and he could feel her shaking. He took her hand, brushing her knuckles with his lips. "We do not have to do this."

Her glare was fierce, determined and adoring all at the same time. "No, we don't. But I want to." He nodded and sat down beside her, pulling her into his lap. His fingers trailed through her hair, undoing the knot from the nape of her neck and letting the silvery mass flow unbound down her back. He kissed the back of her neck, and then the curve where it joined with her shoulder, making her shiver. Slender fingers brushed her earlobe and trailed all the way up to the point. She sighed and turned in his arms, reaching up to his face and tracing the line of his brow, down his nose, brushing his soft lips.

He leaned down to kiss her again, cradling her head in one hand and caressing her cheek with the other and her hand brushed through his hair, caressed the back of his neck so lightly that it gave him goosebumps. He kissed the smooth skin of her throat, and undid the small buttons of her collar, his lips pressing then to the indent of her collarbone. Rosalinsil let her head fall back, her eyes closed in bliss, as he continued to unbutton her tunic and kiss down her body, her sternum, her stomach, and then she was bare to the waist except for the wrapped cloth around her breasts, which he pulled loose and gently unwound as she sat up in his lap, her legs around his waist. "Ane ir'ina'lan'ehn, arasha," Solas said softly.

She smiled in response and undid the fastenings on his jerkin, pushing it over his shoulders. "It's only fair," she said at his raised eyebrows, pulling his silk tunic over his head and splaying her hands over his chest. His skin was pale and smooth and his shoulders were dotted with the same freckles that splashed faintly across his nose and cheeks, and it made her smile. It was like the humor he hid behind his mask of formal politeness, something that showed who he really was, not the terrifying and cold general of Mythal's armies, but just a man, and not that old for one of the Elvhen, truly.

"Of course, everything should be equitable between us, fenor," he said, his voice low and rough as his hands went to her breasts, cupping them gently, kneading them as his callused thumbs brushed her nipples until they peaked with excitement.

She made a small noise of pleasure before his lips were on hers again and he had pulled her to lie beside him on bed, chest to chest, the electric feeling of their skin touching, their magic flaring, made them both let out a small groan. He pressed her flat trailing kisses down her body again, while his finger worked at the lacing of her pants. Rosalinsil stilled, shivering.

"Haminas, fenor. We can stop at any time. I would never hurt you," he said softly against her belly, his hand squeezing hers reassuringly.

She looked into his eyes, at the naked expression of love, of desire and worry she saw there. It was enough to undo some of the tension, and her body still tingled with anticipation of his nearness. "I am all right, Solas. Please," she said, brushing his cheek. He kissed her just below her navel and finished unlacing her breeches, sliding them off slowly with his fingers trailing down the inside of her legs. She gasped at the sensation, and then his hand cupped the warm mound of her sex through her thin smallclothes and she sighed. He kissed the inside of her thigh, his palm rubbing her in slow circles in a way that made her moan softly, heat pooling low in her belly. In fact she barely noticed when he took the smallclothes off too, until she felt his warm breath between her legs. 

Just that was enough to make her wriggle with delight, and then his tongue darted within her, caressing, circling a tender bud of ecstasy there she hadn't even known existed. Rosalinsil understood, in a vague way, that sex was supposed to pleasurable, intimate, but until now she'd thought it seemed silly, and then terrifying and painful. But this was...well... she moaned at his touch, her back arching, her hands gripping the blankets frantically. His finger slid inside her now slick center, his tongue still laving her gently, and she cried out in ecstasy as her whole world seemed to shatter in an explosion of pleasure that left her shaking.

When she finally looked up at Solas, his face seemed to be stuck somewhere between smug satisfaction, concern, and scorching need. "That was... amazing,' Rosalinsil said weakly. "I didn't know it could be like that but... I thought.." she paused, unsure how to say it without feeling like an idiot. "I thought there was more to it. Um...for you..." she finally said, her ears reddening.

"There is more," he admitted, his eyes dark, "But I wanted to be sure you enjoyed yourself first. It will make it easier, and I certainly found it pleasurable. Do you want more?" he asked, laying down beside her, his hand on her abdomen.

She smiled. "Yes... I want to... see you. To feel you," she said, a little breathlessly, surprised by the depth of her own desires. It made her bold enough to reach down to the laces of his pants, to caress the waiting bulge she found there and untie the knots that held it. He groaned at the touch, his eyes closing, his muscles trembling, and she grinned, growing braver, pressing her lips to his as she pulled his pants over his hips and pushed them away. She had to admit that she regarded his erect member somewhat warily for a moment before caressing it gently, but the answering hiss of pleasure from his mouth was it's own reward.

And then he startled her a bit by rolling over on top of her, but it made her giggle rather than feel afraid. "Are you ready, 'ma fenor?" he asked, his voice hoarse with need and his eyes smoldering darkly.

"Yes, Solas, please. I want this," she replied, reaching for him. There was a little pain at first, as he slid slowly within her, but it faded quickly as he stilled, giving her a moment to adjust to the new sensation. 

"Are you all right?" he asked and she nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers as he began to move within her slowly. Rosalinsil could feel how he held himself back, how careful he was being, and she loved him all the more for it, but she was no longer afraid. She ran her fingers down the skin of his back and let her teeth graze his lower lip, which made him growl with excitement. The tempo of their movements increased and her hips rose up to meet him as she felt pleasure building within her again, like a dragon woken from slumber coiling tightly in her loins. Solas's kisses grew frantic and Rosalinsil, remembering his touch before on her ear and the feelings it had awoken, traced her fingers over the same path.

That was enough to send him over the edge and he cried out softly with a final thrust, and that, coupled with the feeling of him pulsing inside her sent her to another climax as well. Solas rolled to lay beside her and pulled her close. Rosalinsil turned so that she fit right into the curve of his body, feeling his heartbeat thundering against her back and his panting breaths stirring her hair even as her own heart raced. "Is it always like that?" she asked once she had got her breath back.

"No," he said with a chuckle. "It certainly can be less enjoyable, as you are aware. But it could be more so," he added with a voice that was almost a purr. "Lovers who have been together long have experience in knowing what will please their partner."

Rosalinsil wondered if he was implying what she hoped he was implying, but she did not really want to ask. She feared to spoil the moment. They lay together in silence for a long while, their breathing synchronizing as they began to relax. It was probably very late. She turned to look at him and he smiled. "Should I go back to my own room?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not unless you wish to," he replied easily. "I would like to be with you while I may. But let me put out the lights." He did so, and then he got back into the bed beside her, this time pulling the blankets over both of them. Rosalinsil laid her head on his chest as he cast the wards over them and his arm came around her back, pulling her against him. She fell asleep lulled by the magic and the sound of his heartbeat in her ear.

*************

Solas awoke first the next morning, finding himself in a tangle of arms and legs with Rosalinsil, and willing himself not to care. Mythal would be furious if this continued. Everyone was given leeway on the Night of Masks, but if she thought he was endangering the blasted treaty? But he could hardly remember a time when he'd been happier, outside of the Fade, and he kissed Rosalinsil's shoulder and brushed a curtain of hair out of her face. She blinked in confusion to see him there, to feel their skin touching, and then she must have remembered, for she graced him with a hesitant smile. "Did you sleep well, fenor?" he asked her, unable to take his hands from her skin, unable to keep from smiling.

'Yes, very well," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him gently. "I was a little afraid that last night had been a dream I was having, but I'm happy to see that it wasn't."

"It was not. And I was also relieved to see that," he agreed. "We should discuss what happens next, though," he said reluctantly. What he really would have liked to do was lock himself in the room with her for the next year or so, but obviously that was not an option.

"Breakfast, I hope," Rosalinsil remarked glibly, and she laughed at his exasperated frown. "I know what you meant. But it seems likely to be an unpleasant conversation." Her face turned serious. "I... know we cannot really be together, Solas. But I don't want to lose you. As a friend... or..." she shook her head.

He clutched her against him, kissing her hair. "You could never lose me, fenor. But we must be cautious. Mythal, for one, would be furious if she found out. And I am far more worried for you than I am for myself. The Lady and I are old friends, and though she would be angry, she would, at worst, dismiss me to make my own way. Which, I confess, I would not mind." But then he shook his head, his eyes clouded. "But you, she has no tie to. And though she is usually just, she can be wrathful. I worry that I would not be able to protect you. Also, I do not truly wish to be the cause of another war, as much as I might cheerfully consign my wife and all her relations to the Void."

"So, what do we do?" she asked, turning over everything in her mind with a frown. "I am not afraid for myself. I mean, I guess I am terrified of Mythal but..." she shrugged, and touched his face with wonder. "You are the first truly good thing that has happened to me since I awoke in this body. I would not give it up without a fight, at the very least."

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and pride that dulled his fear. He supposed he should have expected such a response from a former spirit of Will. "We will just have to be careful and discreet, and hope that Anaris breaks the terms of the treaty before anyone is the wiser," he said with a wistful sigh. "And we must continue with your training. The more indispensable you make yourself to Mythal, the more she will be likely to show mercy in case the worst does occur."


	5. Felgaral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Rosalinsil enjoy the early days of their relationship, and reveal some of the depth of their feelings the night before Rosalinsil is to be formally presented as Mythal's sentinel. The ceremony goes well, but something happens at the feast afterward that changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felgaral- Blooming, growing  
> 'ma fenen- my wolves  
> fen'falon- friend wolf  
> Myathem: name meaning honored  
> 'ma'lath: my love

The next few months were a joyful blur. It didn't matter how hard Solas was working because, for the first time since he had physically manifested, he was truly happy. He heard nothing from Anise, but Anaris was equally quiet, and Rosalinsil was a constant presence in both his days and nights. 

Her training proceeded well, and now they spent most of their time working on advanced magic and getting her up to speed on history and politics. Since Mythal had specifically mentioned wishing to have a wolf at her side again, it was important that Rosalinsil had mastered the transformation. This required her to be extremely familiar with the appearance and habits of wolves, and though he could have just as easily given her his memories, it was much more enjoyable to take her out into the wilds outside the the city, ostensibly to observe the packs roaming there. 

They did follow the packs, Solas teaching Rosalinsil how to move through the forest quickly and silently, how to use magic to conceal her scent and tracks, how to hunt with the least waste, and how to avoid getting lost. But just as much of their time was spent walking hand in hand on solitary forest paths and making love under the stars. Solas was perfectly content, but of course, it could not last. 

Eventually, Rosalinsil could take the form of the wolf just as easily as he could. He thought she was equally beautiful as an animal, her luxuriant pelt pale cream with hints of gold, her frame lean and lithe, her eyes golden. He imagined they made a pretty picture together; he the frosty, feral hunter, his ice white and blue-gray coat and electric blue eyes making him seem ethereal despite his sturdier frame. They ran together through moonlit forests for one last night, relishing freedom, howling songs to each other, and then they returned to Arlathan. 

Now Solas would present Rosalinsil to Mythal officially, publicly demonstrating her abilities before the Lady. It was mainly a bit of show to impress the other Evanuris, but that made it all the more important that it was executed to perfection. They practiced until Solas was confident that Rosalinsil could do it in her sleep. 

**************

It was the night before the presentation ceremony, and Rosalinsil's stomach felt like it was trying to clamber up her throat. The time for preparation was over. She knew, in her head, or whereever the logical center of her thoughts originated, that she was as ready as she could possibly be. But as she lay in her bed, she could not her mind rest, and she tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few moments. 

Then she felt am inquiring caress against her thoughts. Solas. After ensuring that her mental shielding was essentially impenetrable, he had showed her how she might purposely open it to selected others to allow silent communication. It took control to be sure that nothing leaked out, but it was certainly useful for purposes of espionage. Or carrying on clandestine love affairs. She opened her thoughts to him slowly, careful not to overwhelm him.

 _Are you having difficulty sleeping, fenor?_ came the thought, just a whisper, tinged with love and concern.

The light touch of his mind soothed her and she let out a long breath. _I guess I am a bit nervous about tomorrow._

 _Would you like to stay with me tonight?_ She slid across the hall and into his room before he had time to take another breath; they usually only spent nights together in the Fade, or when they were alone outside the city. "I suppose that means yes," he said with a chuckle from where he was sitting up in bed, reading an actual physical book. She had wondered why he sometimes did this, as the tomes of leather and paper were rather hard to find, and less... immersive than preserved memories. But he had explained that there was a sort of comfort in the physicality of the book, the smell of it, the weight of it, the simple act of turning the pages. After trying it, she had to agree. It was almost meditative.

But now he put the book down, gently sliding it to the floor and opening his arms to her. She curled up against him gratefully, the heat of his skin through her thin shift was like stepping into warm bath, and the smell of him was like a balm to her anxiety. It made her feel secure, and protected, and the tension flowed away as if a dam had been broken. "Everything will be fine, arasha. Tomorrow, all of Arlathan will see how extraordinary you are. I confess, I loathe the thought that I will now have to share you with Mythal, and stand by while others pursue your affections."

Rosalinsil smiled at the admission, knowing that she was one of the few that got to see this side of him, passionate, vulnerable, and open. "As if anyone else could compare," she replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. 

"Others can give you the things I cannot promise," he said softly. "Someday the treaty will be broken, of that I have no doubt. But will that be in a hundred years, a thousand? I would not blame you for not wanting to wait for me. And you have seen so little of the world. It would be cruel of me to expect you to bind yourself to the first person who shows you genuine affection."

It was a fair point, so cool and logical, but Rosalinsil read between the lines, saw the subtext Solas had not even meant to leave there. He did not expect her to wait a thousand years, and he certainly did not feel he was worth it. But it also implied that _he would wait_ , that no matter how much time passed, his heart would belong to her. She was sure he had not meant to bare his emotions this way, but it touched a deep chord within her.

"Solas, I know that it is difficult. You do not give your trust easily. But please believe me when I say this. I love you, truly. I do not want to have to wait a thousand years. But I will. I am very stubborn," she said, grinning as she brushed his cheek lightly with her fingers, looking in amazement at the raw emotions passing through his eyes. Surprise first, a shock that had rocked the foundations of his soul, and then a childlike joyful wonder seemed to dawn across his face like a slow sunrise. His eyes almost blazed with love, even as she saw the inevitable sadness. 

"Rosalinsil," he said, his voice hoarse with emotions. "I cannot... I do not merit such devotion. I would rather you were happy, given the full attention and care that you deserve." He sighed heavily, closing his eyes against tears that threatened to spill. "But I love you, for all that it is worth. No matter how long I live, wherever you are, that will be my home. You are my heart."

*****************

They woke early the next morning, the sun just peering over the horizon as they bathed together and dressed, helping each other to don their armor much more than either of them required. Today, Solas reasoned, no one would think it strange to see them together so early in the morning, prepping for their audience before the Evanuris. Neither of them felt like eating much, nervousness and adrenaline unsettling their stomachs, and finally, it was time to go to the golden palace of Arlathan.

"I always forget how big it is," Rosalinsil said quietly as they approached the front gates. 

Solas fought the urge to reach for her hand, to squeeze it reassuringly. They could not afford any mistakes today, any hint of impropriety. "It did not used to be so ostentatious. Many ages ago, it was just the council chamber. And though they hate to remember, before that it was a simple hut in a tree," he said with a laugh. "The high and mighty of the Elvhen do not like to recall the time before the grand empire, when the People were few, groups of nomads living off the bounty of the earth, still learning how to survive in the physical world." His voice was quiet, but his eyes sparkled in amusement at the memory.

"I didn't think even you had been around that long," she said wonderingly. She felt like such a child next to him sometimes, even though he never made her feel badly for her youth.

"I was not manifested then, I was a young spirit in the Fade," he said. "Mythal asked me to come, during the time when Elgar'nan's father ravaged the earth. She thought I might prove... inspirational, I suppose."

Rosalinsil frowned. "I don't understand."

"During that time, many of the People considered eschewing their physical forms. The land had grown barren, and some thought it would be safer to remain in the Fade. But Mythal was not ready to cede the earth to the Children of the Stone, and she made it known that those who did not remain during the conflict would be considered traitors. Of course, that backfired eventually, and those powerful Elvhen who returned to the Fade joined with our enemy and became the Forgotten Ones. As I was a spirit well known to the People, she thought that if I chose that time to manifest, it would harden the resolve of the others."

"Did it work?" Rosalinsil asked as they stood in the antechamber, waiting the summons from their lady.

Solas chuckled. "I could not truly say. By the time I was recovered from the ordeal of having a body, the rate of desertion had slowed to a trickle, replaced with patriotic fervor. But Mythal was pleased to have me nonetheless. A feather in her cap," he added somewhat cynically.

Rosalinsil would have protested this, for she believed that Mythal thought of Solas as a friend, at least, but then the huge doors, silver and crystal and magic, swung open. Solas went first, and Rosalinsil watched the mask of his office fall over him like a veil. His back straightened as his arms crossed behind his back, his face was cool and impassive, his step assured. He paced down the center of the chamber, not looking right or left, and Rosalinsil followed just behind his right elbow. She tried to match his cool indifference, but she felt like all her limbs must be visibly trembling.

When they reached the dais with the eight thrones, Solas knelt in one fluid motion, his eyes downcast. Rosalinsil copied him, bending a little lower than he to show her lower status.

"That's enough bowing and scraping, 'ma'fenen," Mythal said with a throaty chuckle. They stood before the Evanuris, and Rosalinsil was glad that Solas had advised her to keep her eyes down. Even what she could see in her peripheral vision was mildly terrifying. Mythal sat upon her throne of iridescent white and silver, dragon wings made of solid thought resting against her back. Her husband Elgar'nan was at her side, his skin so dark it was nearly the color of coal, his eyes fiery, his skin smoking with his internal heat. 

Magic wreathed each of them, the air shimmered with it, a low-pitched humming in her ears setting Rosalinsil's teeth on edge. The eyes of the Evanuris felt like a burning weight upon her, but none of them spoke. Mythal waited the space of a few heartbeats, before inclining her head toward Solas.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "May I present Rosalinsil, a manifest spirit of Will. Her training as a sentinel is complete, and she is ready to assume her duties as Mythal's own."

"And what proof do you offer that you are worthy of the Mother of All?" boomed the voice of Elgar'nan.

That was the signal. As one, she and Solas transformed, the two wolves facing each other in battle stances, though with no real rancor. This was more of a dance than a fight, designed to show what Rosalinsil's capabilities in battle. Since her job was to defend Mythal, Solas played the aggressor, darting at her with bared teeth as shards of ice flew at her, cast by his thought. They melted upon her fiery shield as she met his charge with her shoulder, sliding under him so that his own momentum carried him over her back in an inelegant roll. 

He landed on his feet, skidding on the smooth tiles, the gouts of flame that rushed toward him cooling into embers in the face of the blizzard the now swirled around his form. But now lightning cracked around him, singing his fur, making the air smell of ozone. The wolf that was Rosalinsil advanced on him, her fur standing up with the electric charge of her magic, her eyes glowing with sparks. He leaped.

But as he launched into the air with a howl, she transformed back to her Elvhen body, sliding under him on her knees and drawing her blades, somersaulting upright. He spun quickly, rushing her while her back was turned, but she evaded him with a backflip. And then she leaped at him with blades flashing. 

This part was the most dangerous, but Solas was confident. He transformed, rolling so that he caught her body in mid-leap with his foot and pulled her over his head by her wrists. She landed well, tumbling away, tucking her body so that she rolled back up to standing even as he had risen and drawn his own sword and shield. Now they met in a flurry of flashing steel, blades blurring. He fought with power and reach, trying to keep her a distance, but she was always there, weaving under his guard. 

Finally, after he was artfully disarmed, he rushed her, and as planned, he ended up on his back, Rosalinsil pinning him with her blade to his throat. They held the position for a moment that seemed like an eternity, their eyes meeting with the heat of exertion and another, more private, warmth. However, to the onlookers, it was only a second, a pose of defeat, and then Rosalinsil pulled him up, and they both bowed, keeping their expressions neutral. 

Mythal laughed. "Very good. You two work so well together, I'm tempted to demote you, Solas. How lovely a pair of wolves you make." Solas said nothing, merely arching his eyebrow. The Lady was smiling. "Only I think you might be too happy to do it, and I need your mind on the battlefield, fen'falon. So I'll think up a fitting reward for you later." Mythal turned her gaze now to Rosalinsil. 

"You have progressed well in such a short space, girl. I'm proud to call you my own. Come stand at my side now, and receive your badge of office." Rosalinsil did not really want to come any closer to the eight thrones. Mythal was frightening enough on her own but the others were ten times worse. Still, she thought she did not tremble too much as she stepped onto the dais and received the wolf jawbone pendant. There was a wealth of lore regarding the origin of the pendant, but Solas had previously explained that most of this was fabricated to make it seem more important than it was.

"When Mythal first took a body, she acquainted herself with the creatures of the world. Though you would not suspect it now, she used to be very nurturing, and was drawn to the young and defenseless. So she raised a wolf cub after its mother died and it became her guardian. She had a succession of these, but as time wore on, I believe it saddened her how short their lives were. Eventually she tried to bind a spirit to the form of a wolf, but the spirit went wild and I, still young, was forced to slay it. She was annoyed at the failure, and decided that since I had killed her pet, I could take its place until there was a suitable replacement. That is the bone of that wolf." He had shaken his head in amused annoyance at the memory. "It started as a joke, to tease me about taking the place of a dog. And now it has become enshrined as a holy relic," he had finished with a snort of derision.

So Rosalinsil was perhaps not as awed at having it placed around her neck as she might otherwise have been. But at the same time, it was a symbol of her new position, and it felt good to have a place. It certainly didn't hurt to know that Solas had worn it for centuries before her. She turned to the rest of those in the audience chamber, for many of the Elvhen elites were in attendance. "Behold, my new sentinel," Mythal's voice rang out.

There was applause from all those in attendance, though most of it was perfunctory rather than enthusiastic. But Rosalinsil only had eyes for Solas, whose smile of pride was the best reward she could have asked for.

*******************

Of course there was a feast. The Evanuris would take any excuse for a feast, though luckily only Mythal was in attendance. Solas sat at her right and Rosalinsil sat at her left, and they did their best not to stare at each other. Luckily, Rosalinsil was seated next to the Lady's seneschal, a motherly woman named Myathem, who was chatty enough to keep Rosalinsil occupied after Mythal left, taking her leave a half hour or so into the meal. The Mother of All seemed to realize that no one would be able to relax around her. 

Once no longer cowed by the eyes of the Evanuris, the meal became cheerful, even at the head of the table. The food was good and the wine flowed freely, and Rosalinsil spoke to many members of Mythal's household who came to offer greeting. She realized belatedly that most of these were women, and that Solas was a notable exception. Myathem laughed when Rosalinsil asked her about it. "The Lady says men are troublesome," the other elf said with a chuckle. "She sends most of the male children of her people to her husband when they've grown. Her general is a special case."

"Oh?" Rosalinsil said, intrigued to hear something about Solas that he had not bothered to tell her about.

"Do not start spreading stories about me, Myathem," he said suddenly, his voice bland, but his eyes merry.

"Certainly not, my Lord," Myathem replied in sarcastic deference, but Rosalinsil could tell that it was an old joke between them. 

"I will tell this story myself, thank you," he continued archly, taking a long drink before continuing, daring to look at Rosalinsil openly for the first time that night. "So, you are aware that spirits do not have am inherent gender, they just are. So when Mythal helps them to manifest, she generally makes a female body for them, and most do not seem to have much of an opinion about the matter. However, according to our Lady, I gave her no end of trouble, and refused to be made manifest unless I was allowed to craft my body personally." Rosalinsil smiled at the thought, imagining Solas so young and stubborn. 

"As I told you previously, it was Mythal that truly wished me to take a body, so eventually she was forced to relent. So the ritual was done with the lyrium and earth and blood, and there I appeared in the middle of the summoning circle. It is said that the volume of Mythal's curses when she discovered my decision to become a male of no more than fifteen summers was enough to shake the leaves from the trees." Everyone at their end of the table laughed at the memory, though Rosalinsil could see that this story was a familiar one.

"And our Lady was right about him. When he was young, he was nothing but trouble. Ate us out of house and home, constantly got into fist fights for ridiculous reasons. And drawing lewd pictures on everything when we weren't looking. The number of times she threatened to toss him out the highest window, I cannot recall," Myathem continued with motherly affection. 

Solas smiled mischievously at the memories of his youth. "Luckily, she was patient despite her threats and eventually I settled down into the boring and terrifying military commander I am today," he said with an amused twitch of his eyebrows. 

Myathem rolled her eyes, clearly about to retort, but then a frightened looking young elf tugged on Solas's sleeve. He frowned at the message the page delivered but left the table and did not return. 

******************

Rosalinsil finally managed to get back to her room late that night, staggering a bit from too much wine, and exhausted, though she was a bit worried about what had been urgent enough to call Solas away so suddenly. She sat on the edge of her bed, starting to strip off her armor, tired enough that she did not even notice she wasn't alone until she felt his weight settle beside her and his fingers working the buckle of her pauldrons.

She jumped a bit, but managed not to shriek. "Solas! You nearly gave me a heart attack," she whispered fiercely.

"Ir abelas, 'ma'lath," he said quietly, "I heard you in the corridor. I... needed to see you." His voice was weary and troubled.

She turned to him, concerned, her hand automatically finding his and squeezing it. He sighed heavily and pulled her into his arms, not saying anything for several moments. "I am leaving. I do not know when I will return to the city," he said finally. "Several years at the least," he said, his voice rough.

"When? Why? Has something happened? Are we at war?" Rosalinsil asked, the questions spilling out of her in a surprised rush.

"No. It is Anise... She is..." He paused, a frown creasing his brow, and Rosalinsil reached up to put her hand to his cheek. He placed his own hand over hers and it seemed to steady him somewhat. "She is with child. Mythal is sending me back to my estate until the child is born," he said, his voice agonized as if it was the worst confession he had ever had to make.


	6. Sulahn Or Lath'in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a short transition, with a summary of Solas's time at home and his return to Arlathan leading into the next major part of the tale. Though I might have wished to more deeply delve into Fisara's birth, it actually comes more into play later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn or Lath'in: Song of the heart  
> Fisara: Hungry for the poetry of the journey  
> Min'nas'sal'inasem: I have missed you )Lit: I felt the knife again in my soul  
> Eolasan, vhenan'ara. Mith'melava: I know, my heart's desire. The time is near.

Even ages later, the memory left him weeping. Rosalinsil had not held it against him, the child, his leaving, anything. She had reassured him that all would be well. It would give her time to become integrated in Mythal's household, and they could still meet in the Fade. It was true that two or three years would pass quickly, especially when you could expect to see thousands of them.

So he went back to his estate the following week. Anise was indeed pregnant, and he was solicitous of her needs, if distant. There was no point in voicing his doubt that the child was his, for there was no way to prove it either way. And Solas was not a cruel man by nature, he would certainly not punish an infant for something it could not help. So he let Anise rope him into preparations, and when he slept, he often met Rosalinsil. 

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they simply ran as wolves through forests of their memory. And of course, there were often more intimate interludes. She kept him up to date on events in the city, which was often more helpful than the official reports he received. The Forgotten Ones were quiet, the dwarves were quiet, and the most that troubled Mythal was her own family. Unsurprisingly, Andruil was bored, and Falon'din was stirring up trouble.

And a little over two years later, Fisara was born. Solas was besotted with her immediately, no matter how he felt about her mother. She was not as fair as he, with auburn hair and eyes that turned green as a new leaf as soon as the newborn blue faded. She could have just as easily been his daughter as anyone else's and he found he hardly cared.

Anise did not seem to want to have much to do with her daughter in any case, and often left her to the care of the servants if Solas was not available. She was an easy-tempered child so far, and she reserved her burbling laughter for him alone. It almost made him not want to return to Arlathan. 

But only almost. Whenever Anise was around, she was even more unpleasant than usual, and Solas could not help but think it was probably not beneficial even to an infant for her parents to be bickering all of the time. And he missed Rosalinsil with a profound yearning. It was true that they could see each other in dreams, but it was not quite the same as waking wrapped in each other's arms.

Luckily for his sanity, Mythal called him back before Fisara began to toddle. He kissed her auburn curls fondly and bade his wife a civil farewell. But then he left for Arlathan, his true home, without a look back.

***************

And of course, Mythal wanted to have a celebration to congratulate him on a healthy child. Solas did not bear it with very good grace. Not only did he not find it a particularly praiseworthy achievement, but he was particularly annoyed to have to spend all day in public where he had to regard Rosalinsil with the same studied indifference he offered everyone else. They dared not even speak mind to mind very often with Mythal right there, for who knew the depth of her abilities?

But later in the evening, the Lady retired, and Solas caught Rosalinsil's eye from across the room. _Min'nas'sal'inasem, 'ma lath._ he said with his thoughts, allowing her to feel, for a moment, all that was in his heart.

She smiled slightly. _Eolasan, vhenan'ara. Mith'melava,_ she replied, letting him taste her own love and loneliness, and her excitement to finally see him again. But Myathem was speaking in her ear at the moment, and he saw her nod, and then the older woman handed her an instrument. He recognized it as a lah'hasath'tirdan, and he leaned forward in anticipation of hearing her play. That was one advantage of being a people whose emotions touched the air between them. It only took one call for silence to quiet a room.

Rosalinsil put the instrument to her shoulder, and lifted the bow. Her eye caught his for a brief moment before she began to play. The sound filled the room, lonely and keening at first, quick bursts of anxious notes interspersed with low melancholy in a minor key. Then there was an interlude of calm, soothing music, like cool water. Solas closed his eyes, his chin resting in his hands.

The music picked up again, lively and playful, and then questioning, before descending again into fear. The terrible music reached a crescendo and was interrupted in one high note that almost crashed against his senses. There was a pause, a few short angry notes, a few sad notes, a measure of plaintive hope. And then peace, almost a lullaby, that recalled the previous point of calm.

And that was when Solas realized that this was their story, his and Rosalinsil's, written into music. No one else could have known, but between them, no words were truly needed. He recognized now, the lullaby that was meant to be the night when he had kept her dreams away the first time. Now the lullaby turned to wistful hope as well as a sort of confused anxiety, and he had to suppress his smile, knowing that was how she must have felt to find him there in the morning, and in their interactions afterward.

There was a transition to a cheerful and mysterious melody, which quickened thrillingly and then slowed, and he remembered dancing with her by firelight, walking under the moon. The song soared into surprise, throbbed with desire, and then gentled into love, a slow, passionate, and aching melody that seemed to strike him right in the heart, making him struggle to hold in a sudden gasp. Soon after, the song ended, fading back to the loneliness of before, which was now tempered with love and hope. 

Everyone applauded, and he did too, though he had been struck nearly senseless by it. Rosalinsil was surrounded quickly by admirers, asking her questions about the music and offering their compliments. Solas could hardly keep his eyes from her, so he was almost grateful when someone engaged him in conversation. When he looked up next, he could see that she was telling everyone that she was tired, and she soon left the gathering, her eyes catching his as she passed.

*******************

He left a half hour later. The party was starting to wind down, thankfully, and he reasoned that no one would now connect his departure to her. It took an effort of will to keep his pace measured, his face passive, as he made his way down to the lower levels. The corridor was dim, it was indeed late, and he pushed through the door to his own chamber silently.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he was nearly tackled in an embrace. His arms went around Rosalinsil automatically, and they could hardly speak all the words they wished to say because it seemed to interfere so much with kissing. Eventually, they made their way to the bed, saying with their bodies all the longing and passion they had left unspoken in the past few years of separation.

When they lay together later, sated and content, Rosalinsil rested her head on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair. "The music was beautiful, fenor. I take it you composed it yourself."

"I did," she said with a gentle smile. "You recognized it? I couldn't exactly openly discuss the subject matter."

"Not at first," he admitted. "But once you reached the part where I held your dreams away, I realized. You know, you almost made Mythal's general weep in public. I would have had a difficult time explaining it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Though I am sorry I nearly made you cry, my love. That was not my intention," she said, looking up at him with slight concern.

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "No, do not apologize. They would have been tears of joy, for how full my heart was at that moment, ashara."

Rosalinsil left before dawn the next morning, for she had to join Mythal at the first bell in any case, and she knew it would be empty in the corridor if she rose a bit earlier than usual. Still, it was wrench to leave the warmth and comfort of Solas's arms after they had been apart so long. She kissed him gently on the lips and he smiled in his sleep, and it was the memory of that smile that carried her through the morning.

Later that afternoon, Solas came to Mythal's private audience chamber to speak with her about plans. Andruil was becoming problematic, and there was some worry that she might turn aggressive. They discussed moving troops in readiness, though Mythal was convinced she would have to deal with her daughter personally. 

"I am more concerned about Falon'din. He is provoking hostilities with Anaris, over borders of all things," Mythal said, angrily tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair.

The only display of emotion that Solas showed at this was a twitch of his eyebrow, but Rosalinsil knew that his heart must have leaped with elation. He had studiously avoided looking at her, but as she was currently in wolf form, she was free to stare at him through half-lidded eyes as much as she wished. He looked as beautiful as ever, and though his posture was currently tense, the lines of his lean body only reminded her of the night before. She yawned to cover a grin.

"Falon'din is only looking for an excuse for war to soothe his vanity. There is a such thing as being too friendly with the dead," Solas offered blandly.

Mythal let out a throaty chuckle. "Yes, my son's fascination with necromancy is a bit... disturbing, to say the least. I will send some of my people there to soothe tempers, but I wish you to station a contingent nearby, so we are ready."

"Ma nuvenin, ha'el'asha. How does your guardian fare?" he asked, allowing his gaze to settle on Rosalinsil for a moment.

"You trained her well, fen'falon," Mythal replied easily, patting the wolf on the head fondly. "She is less troublesome than you were in your youth, and much less solemn than you have become in your maturity. We suit each other."

Solas smiled briefly, both pleased to know that Rosalinsil had fit in so well, and suppressing laughter at his mind, which had wished to reply. 'Not as well as we suit each other,' but of course, he had not lived so long in service to the Evanuris without learning to hold his tongue. 

"But still, I think she needs to get out more and I have a mission in mind, since the two of you work so well together," Mythal continued.

Solas had to exert all his self-control to hide the way his heart had sped at the thought. "Of course. Where do you wish us to go?"

"I suppose you have not felt it at home, but there have been tremors in the earth, near to the Taralas'eireth. They have worsened with time. I fear the Children of Stone make more trouble, and so I require someone to go and see what is amiss before I commit to a war party. Do you believe you will require others, or will the two of you be sufficient?"

Solas wondered if this was a test. If so, he did not want to fail. "Of course, you may send others if you foresee the need. But I believe that Rosalinsil and I can can accomplish simple reconnaissance without difficulty. We will travel as wolves, and that will make the journey quicker as well as less open."

Mythal seemed content with this arrangement, as well as the explanation. "Very well. I will give you a week to get your affairs in order, since I know there are many others things that require your attention. I'll speak to you later about the details, but now it seems I need to have a talk with my husband about reigning in our unruly offspring. Go on with Solas, Rosalinsil. I hope at this point, I do not need my sentinel to accompany me to meet my spouse," she said with a roll of her eyes.

The two left together, not touching, nor trusting themselves to speak until they were far away from Mythal, both giddy as lovestruck teenagers.


	7. Eira'dhavem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Rosalinsil travel to Orzammar. Rosalinsil has never seen snow before. They arrive at the gates of the dwarven city and find that the Children of Stone need help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eira'dhavem: Snow-kissed  
> Garas, aman na'mis: Come, i will sheathe your blade.  
> Juveran na su tarasyl, vhenan'ara: I will take you to the sky, heart's desire  
> Ar lath 'ma, vhenan: I love you, my heart  
> Julathan na sule vir'bellanaris dina: I will love you until the path of eternity is ended.

Mythal saw them off at the end of the week, bidding them farewell at the edge of the lower city. "Dareth shiral, 'ma fenen. Do try not to get into trouble."

The larger of the two wolves huffed irritably and Mythal laughed. "You are right, of course. Rosalinsil, at least, can be counted on to behave sensibly." The gray wolf turned away with a growl as the smaller, paler, wolf lolled her tongue with laughter. "Go on then." Mythal said with a grin. "I'll be expecting your reports."

The two wolves loped off into the gray morning light. When they were out of sight of the city, they started to run, howling for the joy of it.

They journeyed steadily southward, giving a wide berth to the few human settlements they came across. Humans were, for the most part, barbaric savages, and they hunted wolves for sport as well as necessity. Other than that, however, it was a pleasant journey, if a silent one. In wolf form, they could not speak, save mind to mind, but they did not truly need words between them.

They had been traveling for a little over a week when it happened. The two wolves were padding silently through the edge of a pine forest when Rosalinsil suddenly snorted. She shook her head in confusion. Solas turned to her, staring with his head cocked to the side. Finally, he seemed to realize what was going on. In a flash of light, he returned to his Elvhen body, smiling in gentle amusement.

"I should have guessed you would have never seen snow," he said as she too resumed her normal form. Rosalinsil watched the sky in amazement, the fat white snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground.

"Snow?" she said, wonderingly. "What is it?" She held out her hand and watched, mesmerized, as a flake fell into her palm and melted away.

He smiled gently and put his arm around her waist. "It is rain. When the air is very cold, it falls as tiny ice crystals. If you could see them up close, each one would be a uniquely beautiful six-sided structure. Unfortunately, the woods are not an ideal location for performing a magnification spell."

They stood together for a long moment, watching the snow fall through the trees, until Rosalinsil shivered. "Let us set up a camp. It appears that the snow may continue to fall all night. If we are not careful, we may be buried," Solas said with a chuckle.

With the aid of magic, they soon had a tent that was warm and dry, their camp covered by a dome of magic that would keep the wind and snow away. Rosalinsil sat in the cup of Solas's crossed legs, her head against his chest as they watched the snow flakes fall against the barrier above them and slide to the ground. 

"Snow is so... peaceful," she said with a sigh. Solas wrapped his arms around her, nestling his nose in the crook of her neck and breathing in the scent of her hair. 

"It is pleasant to watch, though not as enjoyable to travel in. We may have to remain here for several days if the weather does not let up. Even as wolves it is dangerous to travel in a blizzard."

"You sound so disappointed about that," Rosalinsil replied teasingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. He smiled down at her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I do not deny that I am not at all displeased at the thought that we may be stuck here together. Certainly I could not wish for better company." His fingers trailed down the side of her face and over her neck, and she hummed softly, turning in his arms so that her legs went around his waist.

"I still expect this to be a dream that I am about to wake up from. It seems so long since we have been together outside of the Fade. If I didn't know better, I might have thought Mythal sent us out here on purpose," Rosalinsil said softly, her fingers brushing over the nape of his neck and the wisps of hair that had escaped the bounds of his braids. 

"The thought had crossed my mind," Solas said with a frown. "I worried it was some kind of test. But our Lady does not usually go in for that kind of game. If she suspected something, she would have said so. And I cannot think why, if she knew, that she would allow us to continue." He shook his head. "I have turned it over in my mind time and time again, and I could not make sense of anything, except that she must not know, and she truly believes that we are the best pair for this task. Perhaps she worries for the loyalty of her other subjects. Therefore, there is nothing to do but enjoy the opportunity while it lasts." He smiled then, his eyes drinking in her face before their lips met, a tender and breathless caress. "I have missed you dearly, ashara."

"And I you, 'ma lath," she answered softly, pulling him closer, their kiss this time was longer, their lips parting and tongues brushing, gently at first, and then more insistent. One of her hands was tangled in his hair now, the other slipping under his collar to the bare skin of his shoulder, and she heard his gasp at the touch. It pleased her to know that such a simple thing still affected him so deeply.

His teeth grazed her lower lip gently, drawing a sigh of pleasure from her. He was careful with her even now, not wanting to frighten her, letting her lead, but Rosalinsil had found that she was beginning to enjoy the ferocity she could sometimes wake in him. Solas would never hurt her, but it gave her a sense of pride, a feeling of power, to make him lose control just a little. Her hands found the hem of his tunic and slipped underneath, her fingers sliding over the lean muscles of his abdomen and around his back as his mouth went to her neck and one of his hands cupped her small breast. They were wearing far too much clothes. 

There was a brief flurry of undressing and then they were on the ground, surrounded by piles of their discarded garments. The dirt and moss was cool on Rosalinsil's back, a sharp contrast to the heat of Solas's body, his mouth on her breast, tongue circling the nipple until she moaned. "Solas, garas, aman na'mis."

"Juveran na su tarasyl, vhenan'ara," he said, his voice hoarse and breathless with need. Rosalinsil heard herself whimper in pleasure as he filled her completely, her legs around his hips pulling him deeper so that he groaned. They had plenty of time, and Solas meant for their lovemaking to be slow and gentle. He wanted to savor her, each sensation, each sound, every taste of her he wanted to engrave into his memory. But she was so ready for him, and she ran her nails down his back and moved her hips against him until he could hold back no longer. He let himself go, driving himself deep within her again and again, and she cried out his name in pleasure and joy as he exploded within her, both of them left reeling by the strength of their release.

He let himself fall into her arms, panting, knowing his weight must be heavy on her chest, but she did not complain. Her hands cradled his head, sliding through his hair, stroking his cheek, and he realized that she no longer needed or wanted him to hold himself back. She was made to be his partner, his equal. A stunning thought that nevertheless nearly made him weep. "Ar lath 'ma, vhenan," he said, and the words meant more then than they came to mean later, and still he meant them.

"Vhenan," Rosalinsil said, whispering. "Julathan na sule vir'bellanaris dina."

*************

The snow fell all night and into the next until it had piled up against their barrier and nearly enclosed it. When they awoke the morning after, it was to a world of sparkling white. The sun glinted blindingly off nearly every surface, making them both squint. The air was clear and sharp with cold. They packed up their camp and put their packs on their backs before transforming back into wolves. That, at least, was easier on their eyes. 

They were into the mountains at last, still traveling south, thought their path went more up and down than it did straight. Once they camped on a windswept cliff beside a roaring waterfall. The stars seemed nearly close enough to touch and Solas pointed out all the constellations and the names the People had for them. Now they called them after the Evanuris, but it had not always been so. 

The next morning they took an old trail into a valley below. They would reach their destination soon, and the knowledge had made both of them tense. Neither had much dealings with the Children of Stone, for even Solas had been young the last time the dwarves had warred with the People. They had little idea what they might find.

So when Rosalinsil felt something strike the back of her head, she spun around, growling, fearing an attack. She gaped to see Solas, Elvhen again, smiling with mischief, another ball of snow ready in his hand. She snorted dismissively and made to turn around again, but as he launched his new projectile, she turned and charged him, bowling him headfirst into a snowdrift.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said, laughing as Rosalinsil also came back to herself. 

"You definitely did," she agreed with an arched eyebrow. "What happened to the part where we're supposed to be swift and silent?"

"The likelihood of anyone discovering us here is extremely..." a snowball hit him squarely in the face. 

The battle was on then. The shrieks and howls of laughter echoed through the mountains like a cadre of vengeful spirits, but if anyone had been around, and been brave enough to investigate, they would not have believed their eyes. Two magnificent castles of ice faced each other at a distance of fifty yards or so, each occupied by one elf shouting imprecations and launching snowballs both handmade and magical over the ramparts. Of course, when Solas constructed siege equipment out of magical ice, Rosalinsil was doomed, but she continued to man her snowball cannon with determination.

"Surrender!" Solas called from the parapet of his ice fortress. "You are surrounded!"

"Never!" Rosalinsil called, her snowball missing his head by inches. Then the ground began to shake. "Hey, now. Earthquakes are unfair."

"That is not my doing," Solas answered, his eyes wide. He leaped down from the wall, a breath of wind letting him down gently, and ran to meet Rosalinsil, who slid down the side of her castle as it began to crack. They crashed into an embrace, each casting a barrier over the both of them and clinging together while the earth rolled underneath them. It seemed to last forever, and torrents of snow rolled past them, diverted by their magic working in concert.

Finally, everything was still and silent once more. They were an island in the middle of a sea of snow and rocks and broken trees. "It seems we have felt the tremors that Mythal spoke of," Solas finally said, standing shakily.

"If it's this bad here, the dwarves must be in real danger," Rosalinsil said. "Unless they have some power against it."

"Their magic is of the earth, so it is possible that this is a weapon they are wielding. But it seems unlikely. Why would they unleash such a power so close to their own home?" He shook his head. "We should hurry to the gates of Orzammar and see what we may see. Perhaps the Children of Stone require aid more than they require conflict."

*******************

They became wolves again and howled their coming along the trail, now running with urgency rather than for pleasure. Any creatures that heard their cold cries burrowed deeper in their dens. In two days they arrived at the gates as the moon rose high, and they found a it hive of frenzied activity. It seemed the tremors had caught the dwarves unaware and now an avalanche blocked the doors to the city. Statues of paragons lay toppled in the snow. 

_As I thought. If this is dwarven magic, it is not controlled by these Children of the Stone. I fear this is something new. We will likely get more information if we offer aid._

_I agree. But do you think it's safe?_ Rosalinsil asked him. _We have not exactly been on friendly terms in the past._

 _If nothing else, they are an honorable folk. They will likely ransom us to Mythal, which will give her the information she requires as well as an excuse to come herself. We can do no worse. I doubt they would kill us outright._ He returned to himself, and Rosalinsil did the same. They put on their armor and walked into the valley with hands raised in a gesture of peace. 

The dwarves surrounded them with swords and axes raised, shouting at them in their guttural and incomprehensible language. Solas spoke a few words of their tongue, and it seemed to relax them somewhat, and they allowed him to cast a complex spell which encased all of them in a bubble. "Now we can understand one another," he said calmly, though Rosalinsil could feel his tension. 

"Why have you come here, Sky-Children? It has been generations since our ancestors last fought your kind. We thought you gone from the world."

Solas chuckled at that. "We are not gone. We come in peace from out Our Lady, Mythal. She heard reports of the tremors in the earth and bade us investigate on her behalf."

"Well, now you have seen, and you can go, I presume," said the same dwarf, a swarthy and stout male with a thick dark beard.

"We might go, and report to Our Lady. But it seems you require aid. And if this shaking in the earth continues to worsen, it may eventually come to threaten our home as well. We would give what assistance we may," Solas said reasonably.

The dwarf sighed and set his pike on the ground. "The Queen will likely order me casteless, but I can't bother myself about that. I'm Caradoc, of House Ortan, We could use whatever help you can offer." He held out his hand to Solas, and they shook, and then Rosalinsil did the same. "As you can see, the gate to the city has been buried in the slide."

"I am called Solas, and this is Rosalinsil. We are sentinels of Mythal. What do you require? Obviously we cannot match your skill with stone, but both of have some skill with healing and other kinds of magic."

Caradoc waved his fellows back to their work and guided them up to the Gate. "Magic we can use. None of the Shapers are here, and the rock is too unstable to move by hand." Solas looked at the mountain of rocks and rubble with a a critical eye.

"I believe that the two of us will be able to manage it. But I wonder, I do not have the Stone-sense, as you do, but perhaps you can lend it to me?"

"Beg your pardon? I didn't think it was something that could be lent," Caradoc said with a frown.

"If you'll allow me, I believe that if we are all to join our auras, it will grant Rosalinsil and I the temporary ability to see the Stone as you do," Solas said thoughtfully.

"I don't know what you're on about, but do what you want," Caradoc said, obviously beginning to wonder if his elven guests were perhaps a bit crazy.

Solas smiled. "Very well. Are you prepared, Rosalinsil?" His eyes found hers. _Guards your thoughts strongly, fenor. I do not know how well our minds will mesh with his._

She nodded. "I'm ready." 

Solas felt the familiar caress of her thoughts against his, the joining of their power like two halves of the same whole. Then he reached for the dwarf. It was an eye-opening experience for all of them. 

"By the Stone! Is that what it feels like to be a Child of the Sky?" Caradoc shouted, shaking his head. "It's like drowning in a pool of lyrium."

"Your thoughts are very.... geometrical." Solas said with a quirked eyebrow. "But now I can get more of a feel for the earth, where it is stressed. Do you see, falon?" he said to Rosalinsil.

She was still gasping a bit from the addition of a new sense, possibly more than one. It felt like the earth was humming under her feet. But she smiled to hear Solas call her falon, because she had felt how much more he wished to say. Unlike with the dwarf, the melding of their power and thoughts was an intimate thing. "Yes, I think. If I hold all the rest still, you can move the large pillar."

"That was my thought as well. Using a flexible barrier, you can let the stone shift slowly, just holding it back from collapse." Rosalinsil nodded, and reached her power out in a net, imagining a web that held each piece to the others. Solas waited, watching and feeling for when she was ready. Then, with a grunt of effort, he lifted the pillar slowly, letting her net adjust to his movement as well as support his efforts. Finally, the pillar was clear of the pile and he stood it upright some distance away.

"Now, let us push the rest of the debris from the door," Solas said, panting a bit. Rosalinsil's magic reached for his, entwining just like their fingers might, and together they pushed the piles of rubble, guiding them safely away from the huge golden gates until they were clear.

Both elves sagged with the effort and Solas released Caradoc from the union with them. The dwarf sighed. "That was something. I've never felt magic like that. And something else." He looked at them critically. "Do your folk always work so closely together?"

"Not always, no," Solas said with a frown. "Although we are all trained in collaborative magic. Why do you ask?"

Caradoc blushed. "You might think it ignorant of me, but I got the feeling I was intruding on something private toward the end there."

Now it was both of their turn to blush. Solas sighed. "I would appreciate it if you would keep that knowledge to yourself. Our personal relationship is not one that is.... permitted."

Caradoc grimaced. "Well, I'm sorry to hear it," he said clapping Solas on the shoulder. "You have a special bond and I felt privileged to feel it, even for a moment. Don't worry, I won't tell tales on you."

"Thank you," Solas replied, his voice strained. His gray eyes met Rosalinsil's blue ones for a moment and then he recovered himself. 

"In any case, you two might as well take a rest. We need to get the gates open, and see what it's like inside the city. If it isn't a complete wreck, I suppose I'll have to take you to see Queen Aeuducan right away."

They went into a cabin nearby, which proved to be a tavern, though no one was drinking at the moment. _I am surprised the dwarf could sense so much. It frightens me what others might see, if they but looked._ came Solas's voice into Rosalinsil's thoughts.

 _Me, as well. But what can we do about our thoughts, vhenan? I could not stop from loving you if I tried. And I would not want to in any case._ The rush of her love for him met his in a wave of emotion that seemed to swirl around the both of them.

_Nor I, 'ma lath. I am only afraid that we will have to fight for what we have before we are truly ready. And I will not lose you._


	8. Dur'Durgen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Rosalinsil are received by the Queen of Orzammar. Iwona Aeducan is stern but reasonable, and she admits that they require help. However, to get the nobles to agree, Solas and Rosalinsil must enter a Proving with Caradoc to prove their worth. The battles are won easily, but something unexpected turns the tide.
> 
> I know, I know, cliffhanger, but important shit is happening next time, and this chapter is long enough lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dur'durgen: Under the stone.

Solas didn't know what he expected from the dwarven city, but it was certainly bigger than he could have imagined. Rosalinsil seemed to agree, he heard her startled gasp as they entered the main hall of Orzammar. Lit by the caged glow of lava, dwarf statues soared high above their heads, their stone eyes cold and watchful. It looked like a world built for giants, rather then for the short and stocky dwarves.

"Well, welcome to Orzammar," Caradoc said gruffly, Solas having renewed the translation spell. "You're the first of your kind to be here, maybe ever. Certainly for ages, in any case. We're to go directly to the throne room, so I won't be able to give you a tour."

"Lead on, Caradoc," Solas said smoothly. "Your kinsfolk are giving us unpleasant stares. I would rather not meet the business end of an axe before I at least get to speak."

The dwarf chuckled, and guided them quickly past a few shops and up several flights of stairs into what was clearly the high class part of the city. Precious metals and gems were inlaid into nearly every surface, the streets were of carved blocks of stone, all different colors, inlaid into patterns depicting the history of the dwarves. Dwarves dressed in fine garments all stopped what they were doing and stared as their group passed, and finally, at the highest point of the city, they came to a huge building carved of blue marble and covered in gilt statues. 

The guards seemed to be expecting them; they pushed open the doors and stood aside and Caradoc beckoned them to follow. He walked down the length of the throne room slowly, cautious and respectful, stopped several paces from the throne and taking a knee. Solas and Rosalinsil did the same. Iwona Aeducan was not their Queen, but it did not hurt to show respect. She had a hard face, stern but not cruel, and she eyed them with casual indifference, unworried. He had not dared to include the Queen in his spell, so Caradoc had to translate.

"So, Caradoc. These are the Children of the Sky that you have brought into to our midst. You know that the Council would call this a treason of the highest kind."

"My Queen. I would not challenge the wisdom of the Council. But these two came and offered aid freely. They did not even request access to the city. They are messengers from their own Queen, come to see why the earth trembled. With the Great Gate blocked, and no Shapers nearby, I thought it prudent to accept their offer of help."

Solas thought he saw a smile cross the features of the Queen, quickly suppressed. "And what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"I am called Solas, and this is Rosalinsil. We are sentinels of Mythal." Solas had decided that revealing his true position would seem more threatening. Why would you send a general if not to make war? "Our Lady bade us investigate the source of the earthquakes. She wished to know if it posed a threat to Arlathan. When we arrived, we judged that you required aid more than suspicion and so we offered what skills we had."

Queen Iwona nodded gravely. "Truth be told, this is a problem that threatens us all. If it spreads, it could prove catastrophic. But tell me, how is it that Caradoc speaks your language? If I did not know better, I would suspect duplicity."

Solas grinned. "I have cast as spell over the three of us so we might understand each other, but I would not include Your Highness without permission, lest you mistake it for hostile magic."

"Prudent," the Queen said with a raised eyebrow. "Please, cast your spell. I admit that I am curious, and it will make things quicker."

The magic was more difficult to reach here, the Stone seemed to actively shield against the Fade, but with a pulse of power, Iwona was included in the translation field. "You should now be able to understand our speech, Your Majesty."

"Very good. Now, enough with the formalities. Call me Iwona. Tell me something, Solas, why is it that you are the one who speaks and not your colleague? My studies seemed to indicate that Mythal preferred female servants. I suspect that you are a special case."

He raised his eyebrows. "Perceptive. The truth is that only Rosalinsil is a sentinel. I am Mythal's general. The Lady feared that conflict was brewing, and so she wished my eyes to make the assessment. Also, I suspect that she has been concerned about the loyalty of her household and she believed that we two were more trustworthy. Rosalinsil does not speak because she is lower in rank and is accustomed to allow me in taking the lead. However, she is equally capable," he said with a grin. "I suspect that I am just insufferably bossy." Caradoc snorted and Rosalinsil put her hand to her mouth.

The dwarf Queen's green eyes twinkled merrily. "But why does Mythal have a man for a general, I wonder, if even our ancestors noted that all of her household was female?"

Rosalinsil laughed. "I can answer that, but it is a story more suited to the feasting hall, rather than a delicate negotiation." Solas scowled. 

"I pray we have leisure to discuss it sometime," the Queen said, finally offering a small smile. "However, we should return to business. It is true that the situation here is dire, but the Council would revolt if I revealed our troubles to strangers. Fortunately, I have a solution in mind that will soothe their tempers."

"We will certainly consider whatever you have in mind," Solas said, Rosalinsil nodding her agreement.

"A Proving," the Queen said shortly. Caradoc frowned. 

""Would the Council even allow Children of the Sky inside the Proving Grounds? They would be more likely to attribute victory to elven trickery than to approval of the Stone."

The Queen nodded. "You will enter the Proving, Caradoc. Consider it... retribution for all of the trouble you've caused." The dwarf snorted.

"May I ask what this Proving is?" Solas inquired, somewhat concerned that he'd consigned their new friend to suffering on their behalf.

"A ceremonial battle. Not to the death, usually. The Council will choose champions to fight me. If I win, it will show that my actions have the approval of the Ancestors. Even the stuffiest nobles will be unable to object. But I am no warrior. I fear it is a losing battle," Caradoc said with a surprised frown.

But Queen Iwona laughed. "Do not think I would send you to the Proving ground only to suffer humiliation. I want you to win, to prove a point. But, you recall, you can choose anyone to be your seconds," she said with raised eyebrows.

"Ha!" Caradoc said suddenly. "Of course. I am sorry to doubt, Your Majesty. This'll be fun."

"I feel like we have missed something," Solas murmured to Rosalinsil, who quirked a eyebrow at him.

"Queen Aeducan intends for you two to fight alongside me. Not only am I sure you can whip anyone the Council might send, but it will indirectly prove your worth to help us. In a way, you'll be honorary dwarves, accepted by the Stone."

"Oh," Solas said with a smile. "That is, indeed, an excellent plan. I suspect we will enjoy this."

*************

The Proving was scheduled for three days hence. Solas and Rosalinsil were given a room in the palace, which was heavily guarded. This was ostensibly to protect the dwarven populace from the terrifying Children of the Sky, but Solas surmised that it was more the other way around.

He gave Caradoc a shrewd look when the dwarf mentioned that they would share a room. "There are two beds," the dwarf said with a slight grin. "What you choose to do with them is certainly none of my business," he added for their ears alone.

"You did not tell the Queen?" Solas asked fiercely when he was sure no one else was around. Rosalinsil had been taken on a tour of Orzammar by the Queen and her female attendants. He suspected that they were trying to pump her for information, thinking her the softer target, but he was not worried. His heart was much too clever to let anything slip that would be truly dangerous.

"I may have given her an idea or two," Caradoc admitted, putting his hand up in entreaty when he saw the flash of anger in the eyes of Mythal's general. "Don't worry. Iwona would not tell I soul, I swear. She... well... she has reason to be sympathetic," Caradoc added with a slight flush to his cheeks.

"Oh?" Solas asked before realizing. "Oh. You and the Queen? I take it that you are not high enough in prestige?" he said, understanding.

Caradoc sighed. "My family is noble enough but... I've never been a warrior or even a smith. I'm a diplomat, if anything. Plus, I'm only a third son. My only consolation is that she refused my older brother's proposal. Every other one too... but that's no exactly a good thing. House Aeducan needs an heir. Iwona doesn't even have any siblings." The dwarf shook his head in frustration. "Enough of my troubles. Tell me, what's your story? Is it a rank thing as well? I can't say I know much about your culture."

Solas sighed and leaned back against the wall, the cool stone soothing to his skin. "No. Worse. I am married already. For political reasons," he said miserably.

"Hmm. I take it that you can't just set your wife aside? I mean, I've never felt anything like that bond before. Surely it is worth a little trouble?"

"Rosalinsil is worth every trouble," Solas said fiercely. "But there are complications. My wife is the daughter of an enemy of our Lady. We are wed under treaty. If her father transgresses against us, the treaty is broken and the marriage will be dissolved. But if I break the treaty, it will cause a war. How can I measure the loss of life against my own happiness? And besides all that, our Lady would be furious. I have enough power to be secure. Mythal would not actually harm me. But Rosalinsil is young, her position is vulnerable. I cannot expose her to such risk."

"Shit," Caradoc said, clapping him on the shoulder in friendly commiseration. "I feel like hoping for a war, for your sake, but that sounds callous. For what it's worth, you'll be safe in this room. Spy free and no secret passages, guaranteed. The Queen and I.. we may have used it before," he said with a cough.

"Ah," Solas said with a raised eyebrow. "Thank you for this. If I can be of any assistance to you, do not hesitate to ask."

"Hey, don't worry about it. You're already offering your assistance, after all. It's the least we can do."

***************

They both sent separate reports to Mythal in their dreams, careful to steer away from each other both in the Fade and in their speech. The Mother of all did not seem to be suspicious but that was no reason to be incautious. Luckily, they did not, at least, require the solace of the Fade, because they spent every night wrapped in each other's arms. Mythal wished them good luck in the Proving, and ordered them to report if they learned anything new, or if they lost the fight and required rescue.

Finally, the day of the Proving arrived. One thing that Solas disliked about Orzammar was the fact that it was difficult to know the time when there was no access to the sun. Caradoc had tried to explain something called a clock, which Solas had only vaguely understood. But he could tell by the quiet outside the room that it was still early. He let his gaze travel over Rosalinsil's familiar form. She had not changed much, in the few years since they had met. Her body was a little harder and leaner, and she had cut her hair somewhat shorter, for convenience. A few lines of laughter could be found in the corners of her eyes where they weren't before.

Every change only made her more lovely to him, more precious, because it reminded him of the fact that time had passed and she still loved him. That she had grown in strength, and confidence, and she still wanted him. He had worried, when he first indulged in his feelings for her, that he took advantage, that she allowed his attention because she felt obligated. Even when he had felt her emotions, it was in his nature to be anxious. To wonder if it was a case of hero worship and gratitude that would fade with time. Now he knew better. Solas had not known how much he had needed it, the security of knowing that her feelings for him endured when she was no longer dependent on his help.

He traced his thumb lightly over the line of her brow and down her nose and her eyes slowly fluttered open, the ice blue irises catching the light of the glowing crystal on the wall. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. "On dhea, vhenan'ara," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her brow.

"I will never tire of waking to your face, 'ma lath," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their kiss was a gentle promise, for there was little time to linger in bed this morning and they wished to save their energy for the battle ahead. It was not doubt that they would be up against the best fighters in Orzammar. The Queen had warned them that they may even face a golem, one of the fabled stone warriors made by the great smith Caridin. 

So they donned their armor and broke their fast with Queen Iwona and Caradoc. It was odd, being at a meal in which all new the chief secrets of the others, but they could still not be spoken aloud. They spoke a little about the upcoming battle but mostly it was a quiet meal full of significant looks. Then it was time to head to the Proving Grounds.

************

It was a bit like the games the Evanuris sometimes held when they were feeling particularly bored and competitive. They were shown into a sequestered lounge area for the fighters, which they would not be able to leave until the tournament was over. There were to be other fights today, squabbles between noble families, young dwarves fighting to prove themselves to their parents or to woo the mate they desired. But their Proving, a set of five battles, was to be the centerpiece of the day, since it had political significance for the entire realm. 

The first was to be a solo battle. Normally, it would be Caradoc who would fight, since this was technically his Proving. However, they had decided it was better not to take a chance. The dwarf had named Solas as his champion.

"Not that I don't think you capable," he said to Rosalinsil. "But dwarves are traditionalists. We're already breaking the mold, choosing a surfacer, not even a dwarf, for a champion. His style of sword and shield is more familiar to them, and its seen as an honorable discipline."

"Let me guess. Daggers are for thieves and casteless," Rosalinsil said wryly, shaking her head. The Elvhen were not an equal society by any means, but she thought that their treatment of slaves was at least a little better than how the dwarves treated the casteless.

"You guessed it. Once he wins a few bouts on his own, however, they'll be more willing to accept it when I bring you out for a team match. Do try to avoid using magic unless its that or lose."

"Is magic not permitted in dwarven combat?" Solas asked curiously. He did not need magic to fight, though it was such an inherent part of being Elvhen it would take conscious effort to prevent.

"Not really," Caradoc said with a shrug. "But it's so rare among our kind, it might be considered an unfair advantage. I've seen you two practicing. I doubt you'll feel the need."

"We will soon find out," Solas said with a quick of his eyebrows. They had a brief discussion about battle etiquette and then he was called out to the first battle.

The dwarf in question, named Toran, was a male with a black beard and a shaved head who looked to be in his early thirties. He looked Solas over derisively as the Seneschal announced the combatants as well as the stakes. "I'm surprised you can even lift that sword, 'ya pointy-eared dandy." At least that's what Solas thought he said. Caradoc had been trying to teach him more dwarven, but they hadn't quite progressed to insults. 

Solas smirked. Being underestimated was always nice. He drew his sword and picked up his shield as the dwarf lifted a sizable hammer. "Shut up and fight," he growled in dwarven. Toran looked stunned. It was enough time to charge the dwarf, striking him full in the face with his shield before sweeping his legs out from under him with the sword. 

To his credit, the dwarf caught himself on one hand, blood pouring from his nose. Solas paused, but Toran did not yield, pushing himself to his feet and striking out with the hammer. Solas caught the blow on his shield, and the force of it made his arm tingle, but he was unharmed. Once again, Toran appeared surprised. Solas suspected the dwarf had doubted that he had the strength to stand against such a strike. It made him smile. 

Charging forward, he watched his opponent brace for the blow, ready to swing the hammer right at his skull. Of course, Toran did not expect Elvhen reflexes. Solas dodged at the last moment, causing the dwarf to overbalance, and when struck hard across the back by the elf's blade, he toppled like a tree under the axe.

Solas waited at few breaths for the dwarf to rise. He did not. The announcer was declaring his victory, so he strode to the dwarf and rolled him over, giving him a quick magical examination. Unconscious, concussion, broken nose, broken rib. He sent a bolt of healing magic through the fallen fighter and after a moment, Toran opened his eyes.

On impulse, Solas decided to temporarily cast the translation spell on him as he extended his hand to help the dwarf up. "Damn. What the hell just happened?" Toran muttered to himself.

"You had the misfortune of coming between the ground and my blade. I have healed your injuries somewhat."

"What? Why? How do you speak our tongue, foreigner?" the dwarf asked, more stunned than angry as he accepted Solas's offer of help and stood.

"I do not, save for a few words. I have used magic to enable us to speak. You fought well, against a much more experienced opponent. It was a courtesy."

"Experienced? You look like you aren't even old enough to grow a beard!"

Solas laughed long and hard, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Someone has done you a disservice, letting you think I was an adolescent. I am not even young among my own people. I rode in the host of Mythal the last time she warred against your ancestors, child. Then I was indeed a young man, and still I had already seen more years than you are likely to." He snorted, shaking his head. "In the future, you should perhaps make sure you have all the information before taunting an opponent on the field of battle."

"Hmmph. Well, you showed me, it's true. An honorable fight." They shook hands before Solas went back to the preparation area. He had barely paid notice to the crowd, but when he found Caradoc and Rosilinsil, the dwarf was laughing hysterically.

"Ah, you were magnificent, Sky-child, defeating that cocky ass without breaking a sweat. I've never seen the crowd stunned into silence. And then you went and healed the jerk, parting honorably." Caradoc shook his head. "There will tongues wagging among the nobility, let me tell you."

Rosilinsil smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. "If we stay here too long, I'm afraid your ego will be too large to fit out the front gate. I've never seen you look so smug," she said playfully.

 _You would know, 'ma lath._ he said into her mind with a lascivious grin. Rosilinsil burst out laughing.

"No fair doing mind-talking, you two," Caradoc grumbled, but he was still smiling. "In any case, they ought to give you a bit of a break before the next bout, if only to let people take new bets," he added with a wink.

The rest of the day proceeded similarly. Solas fought one more bout alone, against a dwarf who seemed to be trained in a similar style to Rosalinsil, only lacking some of her flexibility. Luckily, he knew how to handle that, and that fight hardly took longer than the first. The next match, Solas and Caradoc fought together. The two had a similar style and fought back to back, though it was clear that Solas was the more deadly of the two. Caradoc was certainly not a warrior, but he could hold his own, though they both took minor injuries in that bout. Then Solas and Rosalinsil fought together, against a grim looking pair of dwarves, who turned out to be twins, a male and female. That battle was the shortest. The dwarves were not only surprised by the speed and agility of Rosalinsil, but they were unused to battling opponents who worked so seamlessly together. Solas could see that the twins were used to their collaboration being their chief advantage. Faced with a pair who, if anything, were more attuned to one another, they were easily outmatched.

So now it was time for the final match. When Solas, Rosalinsil, and Caradoc walked into the arena together, the crowd was so loud that the announcement of the combatants could barely be heard. There was a golem. Because of course there was. But they had been been warned of the possibility, and so they had a strategy.

Solas charged the two dwarves with Caradoc while Rosalinsil tackled the golem. Her speed and agility was the perfect antidote to the giant rock-creature's combination of crushing strength and extreme slowness. And Solas and Caradoc kept the two dwarves separated from their giant ally, not allowing them to either shelter behind it or interfere with Rosalinsil. When they had brought down one of the dwarves, Caradoc went to help with the golem, leaving Solas facing a rogue alone. He had a feeling that this one, a surprisingly agile and silent female dwarf, was a trained assassin. It was a brutal battle, and she refused to yield until he nearly severed her hand from her wrist with his blade.

He turned, covered in sweat and blood, some of it even his own, to help with the golem, and saw it fall to the ground. The spectators erupted in noise, some cheers and some shouts of anger. The three victors clasped hands, raising their arms in triumph as the as the Queen approached the balcony, announcing their win for the official records and intoning gravely about the favor of the Stone and the Ancestors. Solas felt vaguely queasy.

They exited the Proving Grounds, a few dwarves offering congratulations, slapping them on the shoulder and shaking hands. It all passed in a blur, and then they were back in the throne room, waiting for the Queen to dismiss her counselors. Rosalinsil looked at him, and her eyes widened. "Solas, are you all right?"

He raised his eyebrows. Was he all right? His head seemed to be swimming, he couldn't quite form words. "By the Stone! He needs a Healer, he's going to pass out out," came Caradoc's voice, echoing as if from a long tunnel.

"Solas, vhenan, stay with us." Rosalinsil sounded panicked. He wanted to reassure her but he was falling, flying? Caught in her arms, her face was the last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him.


	9. Shiral Thenerasen'an

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalinsil must find Solas in the Dreaming, facing his worst fears as well as his fondest wishes. Plus a surprise visitor or two.
> 
> Sorry for those who read tel'nadas, if this seems too much alike, but I like the fade and plus I thought it would be interesting to contrast the fears of young Solas and Solas after the Veil and Fen'harel and all that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiral Thenerasen'an: Journeying the place of waking dreams  
> E fenedhis: A curse. Literal meaning: Oh wolf dick

Rosalinsil sat by Solas's bedside, feeling numb and helpless. "Poison," the healers had finally told her. They'd given him the antidote, and had assured her that there would be no lasting damage. She confirmed as much with her own magic, weakened as it was down here. But in three days, he had not awakened, and though she had attempted to contact Mythal in her dreams, the Lady had not appeared or responded in any way. 

Presumably Mythal was busy with her own concerns and trusted them to complete their task, but Rosalinsil could not help but be irritated, since they were expected to report back. But it seemed she was on her own, and she knew what needed to be done, so she went and visited the queen.

"Rosalinsil, my friend," Iwona greeted her congenially. "Has there been any change?" Despite everything, the dwarf was in a good mood. The assassin had given up her master with very little persuasion, possibly because of how honorably they had fought. Of course it had been one of Iwona's chief rivals in the Council, and the disgrace had given her political capital to spare.

"No. I fear if something isn't done, he may never come back," Rosalinsil replied, holding back the despair that entered her mind at the very thought.

"I don't understand," the queen said with a frown. "The best healers in Orzammar assured me that he would recover easily."

"Forgive me for saying so, Your Majesty, but I doubt they know that much about Elvhen physiology. Solas's body is fine, but his spirit has fled, walking the Fade. Our people do this when they are injured, or when they have grown weary of the world. It would not normally be a cause for concern. But there is always a chance that when driven into the Dreaming unprepared, one might lose their way back. And I'm afraid that with the Stone limiting access to the Fade, we may lose him to uthenera."

"Is there anything that can be done?" Iwona asked with concern. "You have risked much to aid our people, I would help you if it is is my power."

"I will try to go after his spirit, but there are some things you could do to help me along."

The dwarves helped her set up a camp in the nearby forest and carried Solas's limp form, his skin paler than usual, out of Orzammar. Rosalinsil blinked against the brightness of the sun, but she could feel the magic of the Fade washing over her skin, a reassuring tingle of power she hadn't known she missed until it was gone. They laid Solas in the tent and left, leaving only Caradoc to guard them. She had already told the dwarf what to expect, that it might take weeks, maybe even months to reach her lover in the Fade. 

"So don't worry about how much time has passed. Just keep the animals away, and check on us every day or so."

"I know, I know. And give you water with a sponge. You worry too much, girl," Caradoc said with a gruff chuckle. "You'll be fine. If anybody can find Solas and bring him back from wherever he's wandering, it's you. He loves you like nothing else. So get on in there."

Rosalinsil blushed and nodded, and she crawled into the tent beside Solas, who was laying flat on his back, his feet and chest bare, his dark hair a wild tangle. She watched the slow and subtle rise and fall of his ribs as she took off her boots and overshirt, loosening all her other clothing for comfort. Hopefully, this wouldn't actually take months. Rosalinsil had some experience walking embodied in the Fade, gained primarily while Solas had been away, but she had never had to go this far alone before. She had told Caradoc and Iwona that she would be in no danger, but that wasn't precisely true. Aggressive spirits were only the half of it. There was a high possibility that some of Solas's dreams, wrested from his conscious control, would be somewhat unpleasant.

She laid down next to him, curling on her side and laying her head on his chest. Physical contact might help to ground him, and she found the sound of his heartbeat, even slow and faint as it was, extremely soothing. Rosalinsil closed her eyes and slipped slowly into sleep. 

*************

The Fade was different here, in the mountains. More lonely, with a subtle music to it, like a choir just out of earshot. But it still behaved as it always had, since she had taken a body, and Rosalinsil focused her will into a single word. _Solas_ Memories seemed to flow out of her, taking shape before her eyes. His face serene with sleep in early morning light, the sound of his voice in her ear. His gentleness, his passion, the smell of his skin, the Fade brought him to life all around her, but it also guided her. Her surroundings grew darker, somehow both sinister and melancholy, and a figure paced before her, staff in hand. The form was misty, but the gait and posture were Solas's. It kept well ahead of her, striding just at the edge of her vision before disappearing in a ripple of power at the edge of a dream.

Rosalinsil pressed through the wall of the vision, like stepping into a pool, but instead of being surrounded by water, she was enveloped by Solas's consciousness. This was not a tender and intimate meeting of minds, however, but a descent into his darkest thoughts. She had arrived in a battlefield, filled with the stench of death and blood. Carrion birds darkened the sky above, and the air was harsh with their cries, but above that noise could be heard a triumphant war song. 

She moved closer to the sound, finally coming within sight of a huge bonfire. The scent of burning flesh made her queasy. It was a pyre for the fallen, but the living danced around it, singing a song of Fen'amelan, the general of Mythal. Continuing past the reveling soldiers and into the war camp, Rosalinsil heard nothing but praise for the Wolf, the ruthlessness and cunning that had earned them the victory, but she didn't see Solas anywhere. There was a hill in the distance, with a large pavilion on top, and not having any other ideas, she started toward it.

By the time she reached the hill, Rosalinsil was sure Solas could be found there. The dream seemed more solid as well as more bleak. Ash fell from a gray sky, landing on scorched and bloodied earth, and up close it was clear that the mound on which the pavilion stood was made of skeletons. The bones crunched unpleasantly under her feet as she ascended and she did her best to still her fear and revulsion, breathing deep, even breaths. Negative emotions would only reinforce Solas's belief in these visions, making it harder for her to wake him.

She pushed past unmoving guards at the tent flap and into the pavilion to find him lounging at ease in a chair, a goblet in one hand. He was surrounded by faceless soldiers, all laughing and talking loudly. Rosalinsil had never seen Solas like this, every line of his posture suggested arrogant indifference. He wore the golden armor of a sentinel, still spattered with blood, and his head was adorned with a crown made from the skull of a wolf. Even his face was twisted into a coldly malicious smile. Only his eyes were his own, filled with pain and horror, almost as if his soul was trapped within this false self.

"Solas," she said quietly, her voice wavering before she swallowed, summoning her courage for the man she loved. Mythal would not have been able to save him here, unless she forced him from the Fade by force, because this was the mask that he wore for the Lady. How could she ever see the man within, the one that only Rosalinsil and a few others knew?

He looked up at her, surprise in his eyes, but not recognition. "Leave us," he said to the others at the table. They stood up to leave, disappearing into smoke, but Solas did not seem to notice the strangeness. He eyed her cooly, dropping the pretense of enjoying himself, but the look of cruel boredom remained. "Who are you, woman, to bother the general of Mythal? A camp follower? A gift from one of my admirers? I do not require your services. Be gone."

Rosalinsil kept her eyes focused on him, meeting his frosty gaze without fear, and took a few steps forward. "You know me, Solas. Think about it. Search your memories, 'ma lath."

He recoiled at the endearment as if he had been slapped. She realized then that this was Solas living in the past, a time when he had likely never known true affection, never been touched in love. Rosalinsil knew what that felt like, but it was worse for him, for he had lived much longer without, in denial of his gentler emotions. This young and angry Solas was a weapon, a tool. Though you might admire a sword for its keenness, or compliment the beauty of the blade, you did not love it. He stood, his eyes wide with something like fear, his hands in front of him to fend her off. "I do not know you. Leave me in peace."

She continued to approach him carefully, as one might a frightened animal. "I know you, Solas. You are not this man, you have never enjoyed war, or delighted in the suffering of others. It is true that you are a general, a clever strategist, and a charismatic commander, but you have always tried to prevent conflict."

"You do not... you cannot know... I can bring only death and destruction. My hands are steeped in blood," he said, his back now pressed against the tent pole.

"No, vhenan. This isn't real. You are dreaming," she said gently, as she finally stood just a few inches from him, taking his hands in her own. He did not resist now, but he stared at her in confusion, his pupils so wide that his eyes were nearly black. She pulled off his gauntlets and turned his beautiful fine-boned hands palm up in her own. "These hands have killed in the service of others, its is true. But I have seen them do wonderful things. Comfort, protect, teach and encourage. Embrace. Caress."

Rosalinsil looked up into his eyes as she finished speaking. They were calmer, though still disbelieving. The dream was beginning to lose its power. Emboldened by this success, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Do you remember now?"

"I... I have held you in the night while you dreamed. We danced in the firelight... I cannot see..," he started, frowning at his inability to piece things together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently, looking right into his storm blue eyes. Solas didn't respond at first, stiff and unmoving in her embrace, but then she felt a change. His mouth softened as his arm came around her back. His eyes fell closed as he kissed her like he never wanted to breathe again. 

When they broke apart, they were back in the untamed Fade. "Rosalinsil," he said softly. "You came for me."

"Of course I did," she said, and then to her surprise, he disappeared. She looked around in confusion.

"He's not awake yet," said a soft voice. "Fear, failure, forgetting... She accepts the blood on my hands but I.... Pride, pain poignant... Peel back layers, like an onion. It will make you cry." A misty blob of purple blue bobbed towards her, radiating empathy. Compassion. It had been a long time since she'd met a spirit of compassion.

"Do you know where he is?" Rosalinsil asked, wringing her hands fretfully. "I need to find him. I... we can't lose him to dreaming now."

"Love, laughter, light of early morning on his cheeks, counting freckles. I cannot do this alone! What would I tell the Lady?" There was a pause, as if the spirit was considering, although it might have only been that it didn't have much of a concept of time. "I can help, yes. Come this way."

She followed the wisp through the dark dream forest and onto to a cliffside scorched bare by magic. There was another dream ahead; Rosalinsil could see the edge of it like a dark soap bubble. "He is there," said Compassion. "Afraid and angry. But you are his heart. You can free him."

"Thank you," she said, wiping a tear away from her eyes. Solas had always been the one to hold her up, to protect her from her fears and hep her overcome them. Now she would do the same for him. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the dream.

Smoking ruins and debris greeted her. Arlathan, reduced to rubble. And in the center, a monster.

It was the biggest pride demon Rosalinsil had ever seen, surrounded by the maelstrom unleashed by its fury. The demon's roar shook the ground and with a crack, a whip of lightning arced over its head, smiting a tower to the ground. She stood transfixed for a moment, confused and afraid. Why was there a demon in Solas's dream? Had he been possessed?

The realization that came a moment later made her feel stupid. This was Solas, his fear of losing control made manifest. He had told her at the first that he had been a spirit of pride. She couldn't get too close; he could actually kill her before he even knew what he was doing. But she had an idea.

With a focused and delicate touch of magic, she conjured an instrument into her hand, a near exact copy of her own. With a deep steadying breath, she laid the bow on the strings and drew out a long mournful note. The storm already began to quiet as the demon's gaze fell upon her. She started to play their song, closing her eyes, losing herself in the music, allowing the memories to flow. Rosalinsil could not see it, but she could feel, as she played, that her thoughts were manifested by the dream, visions of their love playing out around them.

As the last note echoed into silence, Rosalinsil opened her eyes and looked up to see Solas watching her, back to himself at last. She smiled at him hesitantly and he closed the distance between them in a few brisk strides. "Ir abelas, 'ma lath. I did not want you to see this part of me," he whispered into her neck.

She stroked his hair as she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Tel'abelas, Solas. You do not always have to fight your demons alone. When I told you that I loved you, I meant every part of you, not just the simple and pleasant parts."

He sighed against her, his breath warm against her skin. "I cannot imagine how I have earned such luck to have you in my life, vhenan. Ma serannas." Then he was gone again. 

Rosalinsil frowned. "It's all right," said the gentle voice of Compassion. "You freed him from the fear and now hope is all that remains. I will guide you to the deepest dream." 

The spirit led her to a still and empty part of the Fade, and in the distance, just one dream could be seen, glowing hazy gold in the solence. "The good dreams are the hardest to break. He finds healing in hope and happiness, a haven from heartbreak. Kindness will feel like cruelty."

With that warning, Rosalinsil entered the final dream. She found an idyllic little house set in and amongst the towering beech trees in a sun dappled forest. A stream burbled cheerfully through the wood, the sound mingling with the laughter of children. She followed the sound, walking quietly. The scene she finally came upon almost broke her heart in two. A tree had fallen over the stream, and there sat Solas, bare feet dangling in the water, a gentle smile on his face and an open book on his knees. The mirror image of her sat at his side, her head leaning against his shoulder, and several children played below, laughing and splashing in the water.

"Look, Papae, I found a frog!" shouted one of them, a boy with strawberry blond curls around his chin.

"You must have been very quick and clever to catch him, da'len," Solas replied, beaming. "But now you should return him to the water. Feel how frightened he is." Rosalinsil watch, transfixed, as he interacted with their children, tears running down her face, wanting to run to him, to promise this, and to have it be true. Then she felt a tug on her tunic.

"You're real. Papae didn't make you," said the little girl at her knee, her eyes serious. "Why are you here?"

Rosalinsil stared for a moment. Was this another dreamer? "I.. I am real," she answered finally. "Who are you?"

"I'm Fisara!" she said with a smile. "Papae went away, and Mamae said he wouldn't be back for a long time. I find him in the Dreaming. Only this time it's different." Fisara frowned, brushing her thick auburn hair off her face absentmindedly and chewing her lower lip. "Normally, he talks to me, but now, it's almost like he doesn't see me at all."

And Rosalinsil realized that this was his real daughter. A talented Dreamer, like her father, though she could be no older than four. She knelt down to be more on Fisara's level. "This isn't a normal dream," she explained gently. "Your father is not asleep, he's been hurt, by bad people, and now he's stuck here. But he is my friend, and I've come to help him get out."

The young girl regarded her with a grave expression and nodded. "I know who you are. You're Rosalinsil. Papae talks to the dream you. He calls you his heart."

What could she say to that? She gaped like a fish, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly as her cheeks turned an alarming shade of crimson. Fisara laughed musically. "It's all right. I know Papae and Mamae don't get along. Sometimes I hear things that people don't want me to hear, even when they shut their thoughts away. Papae said it wasn't nice to pry, but it's hard! No one ever tells me anything because I'm small," the girl pouted.

Now it was Rosalinsil's turn to laugh and she ruffled the Fisara's hair unthinkingly and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. "Your father is right about peeking in other people's minds. It's a bit rude." She sighed, sobering as she remembered the duty that called her here. "I know you love your papae, and he loves you. But we need to wake him before he gets sick. We are on a mission for Lady Mythal, and I will need his help to finish it."

"But Mythal makes Papae sad," Fisara said with a frown. "And she took him away. Mamae said she called him back to Arlathan."

"Well, your father serves Mythal, as do I. We wear her vallaslin and must do her bidding, even if it is sometimes not what we want," Rosalinsil said gently. "Right now though, our duty is to help the durgen'lenen save their city from an earthquake. It is a noble goal no matter who orders it, and I'm sure our Lady will let your father come home when it is done."

"And if he doesn't wake up, he'll never come home," Fisara said with a sigh. "And he promised he would bring me to Arlathan when I'm bigger. So what should we do?"

A few minutes later Fisara carefully climbed on the branch and set herself in Solas's lap. He blinked at her as if it was the first time he had noticed her. "Where have you been, da'fen? I have been missing you," he said, tickling her under her chin and making her giggle. 

"I missed you too, Papae!" she said, throwing her slender arms around his neck. "I hope you come home soon."

"But da'len, am I not home?" he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "This is where we live, you and I, your mother, your brothers and sisters."

Fisara's smile faded, and she reached up and patted his cheek gently. "No, papae. I know this is the home you want. You wish things were different. But we're in the Dreaming now." She slid down from his lap and held out her hand. "Come and see." Solas closed his fingers around hers somewhat reluctantly, almost as if he could feel how close his dream was to collapse.

Fisara led him to Rosalinsil, though he still didn't seem to see her. "It's time to wake up, papae. Rosalinsil came to bring you back."

Solas drew in a sharp breath. "How do you.." Fisara placed his hand in Rosalinsil's and he blinked several times before clasping her fingers. "Vhenan," he said, a startled gasp as the dream shattered like glass around them. His face was so sad and tired, almost as if he had aged several years as the desires of his heart crumbled before him. But even so, he pulled her into his arms.

She held him close, letting him weep into her neck despite the fact that she knew Fisara was still watching. "Ir abelas, vhenan. But I cannot lose you."

"I'm sorry too, Papae," came Fisara's small voice. "I know you didn't want to wake up, but Rosalinsil is nice. I'm glad she found you."

Solas spun around, his eyes wide with horror. "Fisara! E fenedhis," he said in exasperation, dropping to his knees and putting his hands on her shoulders. "I did not realize.."

Fisara giggled. "That's a naughty word, Papae! But it's all right. I like Rosalinsil. She is nice, gentle. I think I'd like it if she were my mamae."

Solas sighed heavily. "I... you are right da'len," he said with a ghost of a smile. "I should not use such words. And about the rest as well. But some things cannot be changed no matter how hard we wish for them, so best not tell your Mamae. It will only make her angry."

"She is always angry, Papae," the little girl said sadly, clinging to her father's neck. "I don't think she likes me very much. Can't you bring me to Arlathan with you?"

Rosalinsil wasn't sure which of them was more heartbroken by that statement. Solas hugged his daughter fiercely. "It is not your fault, da'fen. Things are complicated between your Mamae and I. She should not take it out on you. I would come and fetch you but I am not in Arlathan now."

"Rosalinsil says you are helping the Children of the Stone," Fisara said sniffily. "Bad men hurt you."

"It is true. We are in Orzammar. You can ask your tutor to show you on a map. But I promise that when my Lady again releases me, I will bring you to Arlathan. You and Rosalinsil have helped me to be well again, and now we must return to our duty."

"I know. I'll see you soon, Papae." Fisara faded away and Solas stood with a sigh.

"Let us return to the world of the waking, 'ma lath. Before something else goes wrong."

*************

When her eyes opened, it was dark. She summoned a small mage light and waited for her vision to adjust. Solas was still lying beside her, his eyes closed, but even as she moved to touch him, concerned, he blinked.

"Nnngh." He made a rough sound of pain in his throat. "Where are we? I feel like I have been trampled by a herd of brontos."

"We're outside Orzammar. In a tent. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you in the Fade otherwise. The Stone stifles it, and I am not as practiced at traveling the Fade as you. It is much different with a body," she said apologetically.

He rolled to face her, his joints popping and his bones complaining of stiffness. His hand reached to touch her face, hesitant. "Ignore the grumblings of an old man, vhenan. I am exceedingly grateful to you for coming after me."

She laid her hand over his, her heart overwhelmed with relief that he was here, he was all right. "Even though I had to drag you from your fondest wish?" she asked softly, laying her head on his chest. "It nearly broke my heart to see. I want so much to be able to share that life with you."

Solas kissed the top of her head and cradled her body against his. "I know, vhenan'ara. But you did not choose this fate for us, and I am only glad that you are willing to share what little we can. You were so brave in the face of my worst fears, my darkest thoughts. If I could have loved you more than I already do... Even the best dream does not truly compare. And even though I fear it may come back to haunt us, I cannot deny that it warmed my heart to see how much Fisara likes you already."

"She's a charming little girl. So smart and perceptive. Is that normal for her age?" Rosalinsil asked curiously.

"I have little experience with children, I admit. She does seem rather precocious. I worry about her often, for I fear Anise pays her little attention, and it seems likely that my fears are well placed."

They were both silent for a moment, each pondering the future, what might be done to help Fisara and what that might mean for them. Rosalinsil had not thought much on having children before, except to be careful to prevent it. She could hardly imagine Mythal's wrath if her sentinel fell pregnant, and by her general no less, for Rosalinsil did not doubt that Solas would not hesitate to claim the child as his own, no matter the consequences. Now that she had seen his dream, she could think of nothing she wanted more, and she shook her head at her own thoughts. It was a bad thing to even consider at this juncture.

"I suppose we cannot lie here forever," Solas finally remarked with a sigh. "I am frankly surprised that Mythal has not already descended upon the place in a wrath. Who knows how long I have been absent?"

"I tried to contact her right after you were injured, but she didn't answer my call. I hope she doesn't come here with a war party."

"You two finally awake? I hear Solas, he must not be dead," came Caradoc's gruff voice from outside the tent. "It's been three blasted weeks."

"We are awake and I yet live, no thanks to a certain assassin," Solas replied with a faint chuckle. "If your city still stands, I would like to see the Queen as soon as I am dressed."

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stuff, you can see art and things on my Tumblr. Just look for dragynfox.
> 
> Also, shout-out to Fenxshiral for Project Elvhen. I wouldn't be able to speak so much nonsense without it! <3


End file.
